AUTHOR NOTE: Hello fellow Harmony shippers… Here's the Half Blood Prince through Hermione Grangers eyes. Its my attempt to try and make sense of Hermione's actions, and give everyone a sense of what she was really going through. So far this fan fiction is really fun to write... it carries really well and has a nice even flow to it… I hope you all enjoy it, thank you in advance for any reviews…Take Care… Harmony_Forever
DISCLAIMER: This piece of writing is strictly fan fiction, I write this for enjoyment and shipper purpose with absolutely zero profit made… if you're going to sue someone, please go and find someone with money, I have none… Besides, if I owned the series, I would have had Harry and Hermione together and I wouldn't be here writing HBP "through Hermione's point of view" LOL.
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Trapped Within a Broken Life
CHAPTER 1
Tisbury Lane, a neighborhood where one house was always bigger than the next, had always been a peaceful place to live. Nothing exciting ever happened there, but the neighbors were always polite and took special care in tending to their beautiful gardens.
In the heart of Tisbury Lane, stands a magnificent, yet incredibly adorable home, with plenty of scattered windows, and a large maple double door. The grass a perfect handsome green and trimmed ever so carefully, while the blossoming tasteful flowers in assorted pleasant colors were very well thought out. Though the house was one of the largest in the neighborhood, it had always radiated with a warm feeling to it.
The hot sun dimmed, filling the forget-me-not blue sky with a gentle pink.
On the top floor, one of the many windows burst open. A young woman with very bush brown hair allowed herself to droop over the steep ledge with a heavy sigh.
Crookshanks, her orange, bow legged cat, gracefully joined her; purring and nuzzling her face affectionately. She loved him dearly, but in times like these she wished she had an owl.
It had been nearly two weeks of summer vacation, two agonizing weeks of wondering how Harry was coping with the loss of his godfather. It wasn't unusual that he hadn't written yet, but she had hoped she would have gotten something…anything.
She sighed again as the familiar black Audi settled on the front driveway; her parents were home.
She pulled herself back through the open window, grabbed her Charms book from a nearby shelf, and threw herself on the loveseat by the bright reading lamp.
Hermione had spent most of her days before Hogwarts in that very room. The neighborhood she lived in all her life was very beautiful but extremely lonely; the children that were her age didn't want anything to do with her, and it was the same story with her classmates at school. She grew a slightly bitter attitude towards them and applied herself whole heartedly to her schoolwork; taking great pride in her knowledge. Unfortunately, this only increased the distance with her classmates and made her a target for ridicule. She, of course, pretended not to care; but it hurt, it hurt very much.
One glorious evening, she felt a strange sense of hope. She just knew something was going to be different; something was going to change her life. And it did, it changed in a way Hermione would have never imagined.
She remembered scrambling down the stairs to examine the tall, slender old man, with the long silvery white beard and strange clothes. His piercing blue eyes watched her carefully, and a cheery smile played across his when he had introduced himself.
"Albus Dumbledore."
Her mother and father looked positively alarmed.
"Hello Mr. Dumbledore." Hermione had answered eagerly; she took to the old man immediately. "I'm Hermione Granger."
"It is a pleasure to meet you at last Miss Granger." Dumbledore had said pleasantly.
"Won't you come in Mister," Hermione's father started.
"Please Doctor, do call me Professor, and I would be very pleased to join you. I have a very important matter to discuss with you, your wife and your daughter."
"Of course Professor." Mrs. Granger smiled. "Right this way."
That had been the day Hermione was told all about Hogwarts and the magical world, the day she had gotten her letter, and the day she thought that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't have to be so lonely anymore.
"Sweetheart we're home."
"Upstairs mum."
Hermione heard a rattle as coats and shoes were being taken off and put in their rightful places; then footsteps echoed through the empty space as her parents made their way upstairs to come and see her.
"How's my girl?" Mr. Granger questioned peering in through the open door.
"Good." She lied giving him a false smile.
"How was your day?" Her mother asked giving her a kiss on the forehead.
"Oh… same as yesterday." Which was true.
"Eat anything?" Her father asked again, wrapping an arm around his wife's waist.
She shook her head.
"Well that's good, I was hoping to cook up a large meal."
"I'm not hungry." Hermione stated, trying to sound as if it was a casual comment.
"But you said you hadn't,"
"What's wrong sweetheart?" Mrs. Granger asked taking a seat next to her daughter.
She shrugged.
"Nothing."
Mr. and Mrs. Granger exchanged glances. She had been acting a little strange since she returned home from school, but they both decided it was probably just a recovery stage from her injuries; now they weren't so sure it was that, or at least, Mrs. Granger felt that way. There just seemed to be something more to it.
Hermione jumped to her feet.
A flutter of wings, she was sure she was hearing a flutter of wings; that or she was completely losing it.
She ran to the open window and peered out at the darkening sky, her heart racing, dancing its way to her throat.
Harry had finally written her.
Or so she thought; her shoulders dropped as a tiny Owl zoomed towards the open window and fluttered around the room wildly.
"A letter from school?" Her father asked as he reached up in an attempt to capture the little owl.
"No… a letter from Ron." Hermione answered, disappointment etched in her tone.
"Oh, which one is he again?" Her mother asked, glancing at a picture of the trio sitting on one of the library shelves.
"The one with red hair." Hermione answered feeling herself blush. Somehow it seemed to make her feel really embarrassed talking about her two best friends.
"Oh yes, he's a nice boy. But so is the other one… Harry," Mrs. Granger glanced at her husband. "That's his name right?"
"Yes." Hermione answered feeling herself flush further. She held out her hand and allowed Ron's tiny owl to settle down and drop the letter.
She tore it open with hopes of reading something about Harry.
Hey Hermione,
How is your summer? I mean, how is your summer so far? Did you go ski-ying with your mum and dad?
Hermione rolled her eyes; she was more then sure she had explained to Ron that you needed snow for that.
Well my summer is okay. I miss you… and Harry… so… so anyway, Harry's coming here tomorrow or the day after, Dumbledore's bringing him. I was wondering if you'd be interested in coming to The Burrow tomorrow? I don't think Harry's coming until the day after… but maybe, we could just, you know, talk, and have some fun, and who knows maybe Harry will come tomorrow and then we could just both be here to welcome him... what do you think? Send a reply back with Pig.
Ron
Hermione's eyes quickly scanned the letter again. Frowning, she allowed herself to drop back into the couch, then, with a heavy sigh she wondered what she should do. All this time she had wanted nothing more then to receive an opportunity to see Harry again, but now she wasn't so sure that she wanted to take Ron up on his offer.
She loved going to The Burrow, the Weasley's were always very kind and fun to be around, so why exactly was she feeling the need to refuse Ron's offer? That was just it, she didn't know. It was all so confusing and she felt, that perhaps by going along to The Burrow, it would become even more obscure.
"Hermione?"
Hermione looked into her mothers dark eyes. She was quite the miniature version of her, besides the fact that her mother had long sleek hair instead of the bushy tangle Hermione had.
"Hmm?" She questioned, stalling for a moment longer in an attempt to organize her current thoughts.
"Did he ask if you want to come over for the summer?"
She nodded.
"Well that's wonderful, when will you be leaving?"
Hermione felt her eyes widening. She hadn't even given herself time to think if she wanted to even go, but here her mum was practically ready to get her things ready and scurry her out the front door.
"Huh?" She managed to mumble.
"Did, eerr Ron, say when you'd be going to his house?" Her father asked taking a seat next to his wife.
"He said tomorrow." She answered feeling herself blush again.
Her mother smiled gently.
"Well… then I suppose you best get your things packed, do you want me to drive you there?" Her father asked calmly.
"I'd have to take the Knights Bus dad, can't exactly drive me there I don't think." She answered feeling her stomach erupt with numerous butterflies. This conversation was really making her feel steadily uncomfortable.
"Well, I suppose I'll prepare that dinner while you pack up, Amelia will you make some salad while I fix the rest?" Mr. Granger questioned making his way to the library door.
"Yes of course." She answered smiling fondly at her husband. "Do you need any help sweetheart?"
"No… I'll…I'll be fine." She answered feeling the helplessness overwhelm her.
"You're sure?" Mr. Granger persisted.
"Yes… I'm sure."
She closed her Charms book and turned off the lamp before her mother and father meandered out the door, and down the stairs arms in arm.
Hermione plopped herself down at the majestic desk and scribbled a reply back to Ron, wishing she could write up some excuse to come to the Burrow a few days after Harry's arrival.
Hey Ron,
Sure, I'll come down to The Burrow sometime tomorrow. I'll be taking the Knight's Bus, but don't worry, I don't think I'll have too much trouble getting my things to your house. I'll see you then, say hello to everyone from me,
She hesitated on her closing signature before she scribbled it down with a sigh.
Love Hermione
Looking back over her letter to Ron, her eyes focused on the ending, the part with the word "Love" before her name, it felt awkward, but why should it? Ron was a good friend, despite the bickering, he was after all loyal, trustworthy and often a good laugh. She had always signed her letters to both Ron and Harry the same way, but something felt different this time; Hermione just couldn't quite put her finger on it. She even contemplated writing a new letter and just signing her name at the end without "love"; but Ron would notice, she thought, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt his feelings.
She rolled the piece of parchment and chased Pig who was hooting excitedly in circles around the room. After a few moments she managed to string the letter to the tiny owl's leg and sent him out the window, wondering if she had done the right thing.
Of course you have, the little voice in her head had told her, Harry's going to need you.
Or so she hoped anyway, she wanted Harry to just open up to her. She really felt she would be able to help in some way; or at least comfort him. The thought of the possibility that the Daily Prophet's report on the Prophecy and what it meant, ate away at her piece by piece.
The nature of the prophecy is unknown, although speculation is rife that it concerns Harry Potter, the only person ever known to have been at the Ministry on the night in question. Some are going so far as to call Potter the `Chosen One', believing that the prophecy names him as the only one who will be able to rid us of He Who Must Not Be Named
That fragment of the article chilled her down to the bone. Its not that she really hadn't thought of Harry having to face Voldemort in a final battle, and perhaps having to perish in the process; in fact, she thought about it so frequently, it brought her nightmares. But to actually read the words printed, brought a sense of reality, and with that reality came a true deep fear she wasn't ready to explore.
Anger had pulsed through her at the thought that Harry might have known the prophecy and hadn't told her… or rather her and Ron… The anger turned to hurt because she knew he probably was just afraid to tell them and would come around to it eventually, so the hurt turned to shame.
One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode.
Ron's voice had hung in the air like wet drawers on a clothes line; she really did feel like she just might explode. She pushed the thought aside after remembering her bitter comment she had made to her red headed friend.
"Hermione, dinner's ready, are you sure you don't want to come down and eat?" Her father's voice called from beneath the staircase.
"Yes dad, I'm sure… I'm just not hungry." She called back.
"Alright, but if you change your mind, be sure to come down, okay?" Her mum called back.
"Mmhmm." She replied, heaving herself out of the loveseat.
Half heartedly, she tucked her Charms book under her arm, and set off towards her room to pack the few items that weren't already neatly tucked in her trunk.
Crookshanks was quick to follow her closely behind. He pattered across the creamy colored carpet and neatly nestled himself in the center of her bed in a round ball, while continuing to observe her closely.
"Follow me everywhere don't you?" She questioned giving him a soft grin.
He blinked and began to purr, twitching his bottle brush tail in a gentle and swift motion.
She shook her head and marched over to her closet where she carefully folded her school robes and placed them on the very top. Her trunk felt rather full this year and shutting it was sure a chore; in the end she had to sit on top and secure the latches.
She stood back and admired the trunk from a distance, it looked like it might burst open any minute, but it would have to do.
She dropped on the bed next to her orange cat with a grimace, she forgot how tender her ribs still felt from being attacked by an unknown spell. Madam Pomfrey seemed to have healed her up quite well, but mending her broken ribs was something that would take time. Hermione never did let on that they were still bothering her of course, she didn't want her parents to worry for one, and Harry had always been so strong, she was quite determined to be the same way.
She remembered that crazy crusade in a bit of a haze, it all seemed to go by so quickly. Riding the Thestrials she couldn't see was probably the strangest and most bizarre experience she ever had, then the next thing she knew they were at the Ministry of Magic being chased by Death Eaters. It was all a rather frightening experience with spells flying in every direction, but she found she wasn't afraid for her own life; it was Harry she thought of most. Of course, she did worry about the others, but somehow her heart seemed to give a triple beat whenever Harry seemed to be in a tight situation.
Harry... Harry Potter… The Boy Who Lived…
And continues to live. She thought with a hint of admiration.
She didn't even remember how, or when the mysterious spell had hit her, all she remembered was seeing Harry's emerald eyes a moment before everything blurred and went black. She didn't even remember hitting the hard floor.
The sound of an owl hooting broke her trail of thought, her heart hammered furiously as she slid off her bed and advanced back towards the library.
Disappointment crawled through her stomach again when she saw the owl sitting patiently on the window ledge wasn't snowy white. Instead, it was a very large impressive eagle owl with bright round amber eyes.
"Hello Yana, have you got a letter from Viktor for me?" She questioned stroking the owl's smooth feathers.
The owl spread its wings and gave a little hop before stretching its leg out to Hermione. There was a small wrapped package with an envelope fastened on top.
Hermione freed the owl from her burden and gave her some owl treats she had picked up in Diagon Alley last year.
"Care to rest a moment?... I'll bring you some water and write Viktor a quick message back."
The owl stared at her for a moment, blinked and ruffled its wings. Hermione took her response as an agreement.
"Okay, I'll be right back." She said, feeling slightly odd talking to an owl, but Yana did seem to understand her the same way Crookshanks always had.
Hermione meandered down the stairs and into the kitchen.
"Changed your mind about dinner?" Her father questioned cutting his steak.
"No… I'm just getting some water for Yana." Hermione answered sifting through the cupboards for a suitable water dish.
"Use the small blue dish in the cupboard to your right dear." Mrs. Granger instructed. "How is Viktor?"
"I hadn't had the chance to read it yet." She answered retrieving the blue dish and closing the cupboard.
"Use the water from the jug in the fridge, it's colder." Her mum suggested.
"Would it really matter for an owl?" Hermione questioned.
"Well… I don't know actually, Trevor?" Mrs. Granger directed her curiosity to her husband.
"Amelia let our daughter just take the owl some water?" He answered giving Hermione a sympathetic grin.
Hermione grinned back and filled the water dish from the tap.
"Are you sure that's a good idea though, that owl has come a long way, Bulgaria after all Trevor…"
"Yana will be just fine, let's finish our supper." Mr. Granger concluded.
Hermione took the opportunity to dash back upstairs.
"There you are." She said placing the dish of water by the beautiful owl before turning her attention to the package and letter.
Her fingers brushed across the wrapping paper and she carefully undid one of the sides, allowing the small box to slide out on the palm of her hand. Furrowing her eyebrows she opened the box and frowned further when she found the box completely empty. She picked the letter up wondering if it held some sort of explanation.
My Dearest Hermione,
If I guessed correctly, you've opened my gift first, if you had you discovered nothing inside. That's not a mistake, it is meant to be empty. You see Hermione, I'm sending you my heart. I really wanted to tell you all this in person last year when you were suppose to come to Bulgaria, but you said you couldn't come and see me, and I'll be going on tour with Quidditch, so I felt this as my only chance to tell you how I feel… I've said that I've never felt this way about any girl before, and I'll say it again and again until you believe me. You're very special Hermione, please say you'll be mine… we don't have to tell anyone, we can keep it a secret… I love you.
Love Always
Viktor Krum
Hermione felt her heart racing and could have sworn that her face glowed a beet red. What now? She thought. What could she possibly say to Viktor that wouldn't hurt him? Viktor was a dear friend and had always been on the receiving end of all her frustration and sadness, but he was a friend… a good friend and nothing more. Would she have the courage to write him and tell him exactly that?
Dear Viktor,
I must admit your letter caught me off guard… I wasn't expecting such deep words. You've always been so good to me, and I thank you for being a really good friend. Your advice and kind words have continuously brought me piece of mind, knowing that someone out there thinks and cares for me the way you do. It hurts me to have to tell you that I can't be yours, please understand me Viktor, you've done nothing wrong… I just… I just can't be with you. Take care of yourself on the tour, do try and write me… Good Luck.
Hermione
She felt rather ill folding up the letter and attaching it to Yana's outstretched leg. She knew the day would come when Viktor would ask her to be his girlfriend and knew well she would dread having to tell him that it couldn't happen, but she didn't know just how much it would hurt; how guilty it would make her feel. Here was Viktor Krum, someone who had seen her as a girl when no one else had, someone who connected with her on an intellectual level, and understood her emotional pains; and she couldn't love him the way he loved her. Hermione felt like a horrible person.
"Take care of him Yana." She said softly sending the large eagle owl out the open window.
She nipped Hermione affectionately, just as Hedwig always did, and flew off into the darkened sky.
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