The sun shone too brightly for this. It wasn't right. In her heart, she knew that rain should have been falling. Big, dark storm clouds should be rolling in and showering the forest-the world-with rain. Lightning should have been crackling in the air, charging it with static.
It was the day after Dumbledore's funeral, and she wished the world was in mourning.
It felt like an awful dream she couldn't wake up from. The battle was fierce and Harry's haunted face when Hagrid took Dumbledore's body away made her heart ache as if someone had squeezed it too tight.
Hermione Granger's heart still felt that way. That wasn't the first time that year that her heart had felt like it was wrung out. No, the first time was when Harry pressed his lips to Ginny's in the common room when Gryffindor won. No, wait. It was when she found out he had kissed Cho Chang. The fact that she wasn't his first kiss was one that was suffocating.
She always felt out of breath around him, like when he was around, he sapped her strength. Not that she didn't give it to him freely. She gave him everything. She was his voice of reason, his confidante. It was naturally the next step. Friends to lovers. Like an arithmetic equation. The heroine + her hero = love.
Her heart contracted as Ron's arm tightened around her waist. And all she could think was that it all went terribly, terribly wrong.
She couldn't help but notice Harry's hungry eyes when Ginny walked into the room. The smartest witch of her age and Harry thought that no one would be able to notice. The sixteen-year-old hormones were alive and well, unfortunately for her.
Not that she was single at the time either. Another snafu that plagued her. After six years of loving and supporting Harry, Hermione was tired. Tired of watching Harry go after girls who weren't worth his time. Cho, Ginny. She felt a small twinge of guilt at sullying the name of her best friend. Not that she knew that Hermione still loved Harry. Not that Hermione had let anyone know. The brightest witch of her age and the best actress of them all.
When Ron came at her with those puppy dog eyes, throwing a supposed jealousy-inducing relationship at her, Hermione felt anger mixed with pity. These childish games we play. Six years of not-so-unobvious lusting-after from Ron and she finally had enough. She folded, hoping that in another's arms, she could forget the Boy Who Lived. The Boy She Loved. She spoke the words she was supposed to. She let Ron kiss her in the common room, let him cop a feel on her breasts. She didn't hide her love bites with magic, hoping that Harry's eyes would show a tiny spark of jealousy. It was all for a good cause, this acting. Let Ron have his fantasy and get Harry jealous. She shook her head. It wasn't fair, the fact that she looked down on Ron for doing the exact same thing to Lavender that Hermione did to him. Lavender cried on her shoulder that night, and all Hermione could think of was the way Harry would react to Ron and her whispering sweet nothings at breakfast. Tears came to her eyes and she felt that familiar feeling of guilt, both for not crying over Dumbledore and for leading Ron on. For not comforting Lavender. For not being happy for Ginny. But it wasn't fair. Where had she gone wrong?
Maybe she had gone too far. Sabotaging the Gryffindor tryouts was a dishonest thing, but Hermione the perfectionist never did anything half-assed. If Harry thought that she loved Ron, maybe he'd get jealous. She forgot that old rule about not going after your mate's crush. Soon, she was in over her head, but she couldn't break the charade. No, that would mean crushing Ron. For all his awkward courting, he was a good comfort-a good friend-- as she cried. For Dumbledore. For good. …For Harry. For what could never be, now that she had crossed the line.
It saddened her that her love life had been reduced to a Muggle adage. If you can't love the one you want, love the one you're with.
Right?