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The Reluctant Servant by Hermione Granger
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The Reluctant Servant

Hermione Granger

AN: this is another interlude- very short! (NOT A CHAPTER!) It is a dairy entry/letter from Hermione's POV and will NOT pick up where I left off in the last interlude. It's just sort of her thoughts on what is going on in her current timeline. I know this whole timeline thing is confusing and if you have any questions at all, please feel free to ask. Review me, email me, or leave a message on my LJ and I'll try and answer as best as I can! And rather than posting up a cookie on my LJ I just posted this! :D

Interlude 2: Dairy Entry (Hermione's POV)

I like boring. Yes, I think that's what I want- a boring life!

Strange thought, really it is. I like boring.

Boring is consistency.

Boring is waking up in the morning with the knowledge that everyone that you care for is safe.

It's having not to have to worry about the love of your life being killed, or yourself being killed, for that matter; or having to chose between your life and the people you care for.

But I don't think I can live without all the excitement that has led up to this moment. I guess in its own twisted way all the things that life puts you through shapes your persona and character.

Like a test, but you never find out if you passed or failed, you just have your own judgment and life lets you decided whether you passed or not. That's why I guess humans have a conscience.

I don't think I would be where I am today if it weren't for all the experiences that I have been through, or to know the happiness that I now know the people around me are capable of expressing even in this time of great lose and injustice.

It's weird to think that within the next couple of hours I might be dead. I'm not sure whether to be happy or scared at the thought anymore. At least this way I know I'm dying to protect someone I deeply care about.

But I guess he thinks I'm doing this of my own free will. On some level I know he would never believe that, but I don't think I can fight anymore. It gets harder with every passing moment. It grows off my will. The more I fight the more it grows and takes over me, it feeds off my will to want to survive.

It gets worse every time I'm near either Voldemort or Harry. Voldemort I can understand, Voldemort calls to it making it want to be whole again. But Harry I don't understand- it grows strangely afraid and stronger at the same time, it acts as though it has a secret to hide and only Harry knows how to find out what that secret is.

I guess writing this is my way of saying my last good-byes and having my last say even if no one ever finds this. I guess I want someone, someday to find this and know that I would never have betrayed the Order, that I would have never betrayed him. That I didn't do any of those horrible things even though I feel responsible for them. I watched as they happened, unable to do anything about it. Unable to help, unable to cry out and scream. Having no power over my own body.

When I was little I'd sit in bed and beg my parents to read me `one more book' and when I would fall asleep I would dream of being the beautiful princess and not the little unnoticed girl, that everything would turn out okay in the end; but I guess that's just what they were- dreams. Because life isn't as easy as it appears when written on paper, printed in black and white. Reality gives life colour. It gives it a meaning, a purpose; but what happens when that colour goes away, when the meaning and purpose is snatched out of your hands; what then?

Do you give in to your new unimportant, totally invisible existence, or do you fight and be the voice demanding justice?

Well, I guess that is my choice: to fight a battle I'm going to lose no matter what, or to let it consume me without objection.

Time is running out, not only for me to act but for itself and I will embrace death gratefully if it means I get to destroy a part of Voldemort with me.

If I ever get out of here I want a boring life. I want a life filled with everyday things. Things that others take for granted, because they see them everyday. A simple life, maybe after this war is over.

If I survive.

~Hermione.

Warm tears started to fall onto the paper as she lay her head down on to the wooden desk and cried herself to sleep in hopes of escaping the nightmare her life had become.

AN: thanks Am. For the quick beta job! points to: `I love my beta' sign


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