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16 June 1992
Dear Harry,
This seems somewhat strange, I know. But with everything that we've been through in our first year, I just felt the need to talk with someone. Actually, the truth is, I don't know that I'll ever send this to you, but my mum once told me that writing can be cathartic (that means it let's you get a lot of emotions out so you can sort them through properly).
I guess the reason I'm writing (or not writing) to you is that I think we share some similarities, and maybe you'll understand a little more than anyone else would. I mean, Ron would never understand how strange people thought I was when I was younger. Peculiar things always managed to happen around me, even more so if I was really sad or angry. I don't know exactly what it was like for you, but I know when I went to primary school I never really seemed to have many friends. One time a boy had taken away the new crayons my parents had given me for start of term, and I cried loudly for him to give them back and somehow managed to make all the bins shoot out of the cubbies. Later that year I skinned my knee while jumping rope, and I guess I made all the jump ropes on the playground break. There were so many other things like that during my first few years of school, and that just managed to make me the biggest outcast. I finally found that the only thing I could be 'normal' at was studying and being the best in classes. I didn't really have any friends, but I was always the smartest in school.
That's why I was so excited to get my letter. I just knew that if I went to a different school, where everyone was just as strange as me, that I'd have loads of friends and I wouldn't be so alone anymore. I remember getting my books and reading as much as I could. I also remember learning about you, and I can't tell you how excited I was to start school and maybe even meet you.
That's why I was so upset that Halloween night. You see, it wasn't only Ron that had hurt me. That was just the biggest sign that Hogwarts wasn't going to be that different. No one really liked me at all, no matter how hard I tried. That's why your friendship, and Ron's, means so very much to me.
I guess the two of you rescued me from more than just a troll that night. I knew that there was more to schooling than academic achievement, but, for the first time I can remember in a very, very long time, you showed me what true happiness friendship can bring. I just know you'll be a brilliant wizard one day Harry, and because you and Ron saved me from my loneliness, I promise, I'll do everything I can to save you from You Know Who, not just because you're The Boy Who Lived, but because you're my best friend, and I don't know that I've ever had one before!
Love from,
Hermione
He'd had no idea, ever, that Hermione, despite having a loving family, had been just as lonely as he had growing up. It also struck him how coming to Hogwarts was nearly as significant to her as it had been to him.
He concentrated on the noises coming from outside...
SPLORCH!
...and picked up another letter.
30 May 1993
Dearest Harry,
We've just had the most exquisite feast, all in our pyjamas no less, and witnessed the return of Hagrid from Azkaban. I can't tell you how proud I am that you figured out that it was a baslisk that had been attacking the students. I am so very grateful to you and Ron, but then, you two always manage to save me. I think this is becoming something of an unsettling trend.
As happy as I am right now, well, make that uncomfortable (I really did eat too much at the feast - you've no idea how hungry one is when they've been petrified!), that's not the real reason I'm writing. I've come to discover that these letters aren't really ones of simple gratitude, for I'm certain I've told you time and again how thankful I am (I hope I have anyway, I'll have to make note of that), I think the real reason for these letters is to help me process everything I'm going through...
You see, when Madame Pomfrey gave me the draught that cured me, I woke up absolutely terrified. I had discovered it was a basilisk, so I made my way carefully back through the castle, being certain to warn anyone I found. But the only one I ran into was that Ravenclaw prefect. Thankfully she had a mirror, and we used it to look around the corners before proceeding down a hallway. Penelope and I were standing there, and I put the mirror out and...
Harry noted that there was an unusually large gap in the sentence, and what looked like a small water stains blurring some of the remaining words.
...what I saw literally froze me with fear. It was massive, and when I saw it's hideous yellow eyes, I felt myself going rigid. I have never been so frightened in my life. I tried to scream, but my vocal chords were solid and I felt like I couldn't breathe and then I felt my cheeks harden and just as it consumed me, the last thought I had was 'I'm sorry I couldn't tell you Harry.'
I know, it seems overdramatic now that everything's alright, but not only was I terrified, I felt so much sadness and guilt. I felt as if I had let you down. I should have realized immediately after we discovered you were a Parselmouth, and I was so afraid that my failure might cost you your life - especially since I've sworn to do everything I know how to keep you safe.
I was so relieved when Madame Pomfrey told me you had defeated it in the chamber. I only wish I had been there with you.
I'm so sorry.
With regrets,
Hermione
Harry leaned back in the chair and let out a loud sigh. How on earth could she possibly feel that she had let him down? Even in a state of petrification, she had managed to be more brilliant than himself or any of the other teachers at Hogwarts! And yet, according to this letter, she had felt like a failure. He suddenly began to understand something... these letters were her deepest and darkest fears, things that she'd never really share with him. He started to feel the tiniest twinge of guilt, but then reasoned that if there were more that she was hiding - that she was feeling, he corrected - then he should know. Only because, if nothing else, he had to reassure her. He had to let her know that he would never had made it without her. And, some small part of him realized, she would be none the wiser as to why he'd suddenly grown so insightful to her feelings. He, for once, would look to be the brilliant one.
And so, with a small pat on the back for being so clever, he was quite surprised by the tone of her next letter.
8 February 1994
I cannot believe, after everything we've been through, that you would be so unbelievably cruel! It's been more than a month since I told McGonagall about that stupid broomstick, and you've already gotten it back for Merlin's sake, but for you to side with Ron about his stupid rat!! How dare you accuse Crookshanks of trying to eat that tattered old gray turd he calls a pet! And I thought that you would be big enough to realize that I was only trying to help you with the Firebolt - but no, you have to take his side! Do you have any idea how much it hurts to see your two best friends just push you aside as if you meant nothing! DO YOU!
You know, I'm glad I never sent you these stupid letters. You don't deserve to know anything about me if you can't even forgive me for trying to HELP YOU! Do you know what it's been like for me ever since Christmas? I wake up and go down to the Great Hall, where I'm suddenly reminded that I don't have my best friends anymore. Ron will sneer at me, and you'll just remain absolutely indifferent. So then I eat whatever I can manage, than run off to have, what's becoming, my routine morning bawl in the loo, then try to pretend that everything's alright and run off to all my classes. Then I'm up all night trying to pass my courses, and even though I'm absolutely exhausted, I still can't fall asleep unless I've had my evening bawl in the loo!
And my classes, you and Ron are so daft you haven't even noticed how many classes I'm taking. I'm trying to do all this work, not just for me, and you two just... urgh! It's just infuriating!
But that's not the worst of it! No, not remotely! You see, you two morons have been so wrapped up in bloody stupid things like Quidditch and broomsticks and rats that you've completely forgotten about poor Hagrid! How's he supposed to help Buckbeak?! Did that ever cross your mind?
The time turner had been killing her, he remembered that. She had been short and irritable that year, and it had been growing steadily worse. But never, in all these years, had he realized just how much he and Ron had really hurt her.
I've been going down to see Hagrid almost every night, just so I can have someone to talk to who doesn't hate me at the moment. He's been really sweet, but you know, he tried to defend you! Do you want to know how? He told me that you couldn't help siding with Ron because he's your best mate and you've never had one before. Well, you know how Hagrid is, I just pretended like I knew what he was talking about, and then he went on and on about your upbringing and how you'd never had any friends, ever, and how your cousin used to beat you up all the time. He told me how your aunt and uncle never once told you they loved you, and that they'd take the occasional swing at you with a frying pan. He said they'd made you do nearly all the cooking and cleaning, and never gave you any allowance... never once even celebrated your birthday. Then he told me how they used to lock you in a cupboard. I played along and said 'well, not all the time,' and then he corrects me and says 'No, it wasn't locked all the time, but I can't imagine having to live in there like Harry did.'
I made some quick excuse and ran back up to the castle, feeling absolutely revolted. I almost made it, but then I tripped and fell to my knees. I couldn't help it Harry. I threw up right there on the grounds, I was so disgusted at what they'd done to you, and I sat there sobbing, I don't know how long, but the moon was already up before I managed to get back to my feet.
I walked into the common room and saw the two of you playing chess at one of the tables. I wanted to run over to you, to tell you how sorry I was for everything they'd done to you, but then Ron looked up and made some nasty comment, and you didn't even turn around.
I'm surprised you only blew up your aunt. I'm sorry I ever gave you any grief over that.
Why didn't you ever tell me Harry?
All my love,
Hermione
Harry felt a bit sick. He had never told either Ron or Hermione the true nature of his upbringing. Sure, they had known that the Dursleys were rude and could be cruel, but he had been so ashamed of everything else that he had never been able to tell his friends the true details of their cruelty. He remembered getting irritated with Hermione every now and then when she had mentioned them - thinking they'd be proud of him for saving the Stone or defeating Riddle and the baslisk. They hadn't known, and he had never told.
But she had known since third year, and had never said a word.
He noticed some of the commotion from outside had subsided. He ran over to the window and saw that all the first years were now safely on the ground, but now the balloons began targeting them like bombs dropped from the sky.
He figured he could risk reading maybe one more. He rifled through frantically, looking for dates at the top of each scroll.
1 November 1994
Dear Harry,
Ron is completely daft! Of course you didn't put your
name in the goblet...
22 December 1994
Dear Harry,
Ron is stupid git... of course I'm a girl! And yes, I really do have a date!
28 February 1995
Dear Harry,
It's only been four days, but I'm afraid these
nightmares about a shark coming for me in the lake will never go away...
25 June 1995
Dearest Harry,
When the time is right, I'll be able to tell you what I did to Rita Skeeter. I know it seems so inconsequential
now, but it's all I can give you...
3 July 1995
Dearest Harry,
I'm sorry, but Dumbledore says we can't write you
anything relevant. I think it's absolute bullocks!
10 July 1995
Dearest Harry,
I'll be so glad to finally see you in a few weeks.
I've been so worried...
15 July 1995
Dearest Harry,
I hope you're well. Dumbledore won't tell us
anything...
22 July 1995
Dearest Harry,
Ron's an absolute git! Do you know what he
said...
25 July 1995
Dearest Harry,
I have this horrible feeling something's going to
happen...
22 September 1995
Dearest Harry,
That Umbridge is a daft cow! How dare she...
24 December 1995
Dearest Harry,
I'm sure you're not a bad kisser...
14 February 1995
Dearest Harry,
Cho Chang... honestly, what were you thinking? And I
don't trust that friend of hers either!
Harry couldn't help but laugh. He also noticed it had gotten considerably quiet outside. Rather than risk getting caught (he couldn't believe the number of letters in that small box) he figured it best to just finish reading the one she had been writing.
23 March 1997
My dearest Harry,
You know, I believe I've lost count how many times I've brought this up before, and I'm certain by now you've grown tired of me writing about it, but, seeing how this is the purpose of these numerous letters I've written over the years, well, I've been having that nightmare again. And this time, when I woke up, I was in real pain. I didn't realize that after all this time that it could still hurt like this, but, like Madame Pomfrey had warned me, those 10 potions I took when it first happened only repaired most of the damage...
Harry groaned. He'd had no idea that Hermione was having nightmares about the Department of Mysteries, or that she was still suffering the after effects. How had he never noticed? He began to feel sick. It was his fault, like everything else.
...and I thought I'd grown accustomed to it, but for some reason, today is the worst it's been in a long time. Thankfully it happened quite early in the morning, and I was able to sneak off to Madame Pomfrey before either you or Ron had woken up. The last thing you need right now is to be worrying about either one of us.
I don't know what it is, but ever since that horrible night in the Ministry, I've come to realize that something's been different with you, and I know it's more to do than what happened to Sirius.
It's as if there's this tremendous weight you've been placed under, and although you've been under so much pressure ever since you realized you were a wizard, with everything that's expected of The Boy Who Lived, well, I just know there's something else you're not telling me. I can't bear to bring myself to ask you, because I also have things I've never told anyone before (like all these ridiculous letters), and I know that someday, when you're ready, you'll tell me.
It's almost funny, because sometimes you seem to be the only person I could ever talk to about some things. Ron, as loyal and sweet as he is, just doesn't seem to understand things like you do. I'm not sure why that is. I think I've always felt that there was something more between us, a deeper connection than friendship. Maybe that's why we seem to understand each other so well.
And no one else seems to know what itÕs like for you, but I think I do, after all these years. You are the bravest and most gentle person I have ever known. I think it nothing short of a miracle that you've become this incredible person after how you were raised and all the turmoil you've faced.
I wish I could make everything better for you. I wish you weren't living under the fear of Voldemort. I wish your parents had lived. I wish you remembered what it was like to be part of a loving family. I wish Sirius was here. I want all these things for you, and it hurts that I can't make it better.
I've come to realize, after all these years, that I'd do anything to keep you safe and happy. That's partly why I work so hard all the time. That's why I follow and lead into danger - because I know I have to be there to help, and it would kill me if I couldn't be with you.
Just once, over the summer, I began telling my mum about all of this. And the funny thing is, she explained something to me, about the nature of our friendship, that hadn't occurred to me. The most frightening thing is that I.. I agree with her. It's to do with always wanting your happiness and safety over my own, no matter how much it may hurt or upset me. You see, she told me that my feelings, beyond friendship, are quite simply the clearest definition of...
But whatever it was the 'definition of' was lost on him. That's where her writing had ended and his smudging had begun. He also could hear the portrait door swinging open.
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