Hermione Makes The List

Disclaimer: I hold no claim in Harry Potter. He and his friends/surroundings are merely tools created by JKR.

I know, I know, I haven't written/posted anything in over a year, but I finally managed to come up with something that might even remotely be worth posting, so here it is. Do with it what you will.

Hermione Makes The List

It was a normal sort of day; grey, but not raining; cool, but not freezing; pleasant but not perfect. The sky had the wispy sort of clouds that made one think that maybe the weather witch had slacked off a little that morning. A slight mist that had clung to the forest in the morning had since been blown away. Hermione thought that perhaps the ratio of ground heat to evaporation was off, and that would account for the lack of fog, but then again, Hermione had a lot on her mind. For one there was her alarmingly large pile of coursework, and her second concern was silly, really. Why would the top student at Hogwarts have such a petty insecurity? And yet she did. The great Hermione Granger had a weakness. The world would cry in victory, Draco Malfoy leading the way, but really it was nothing to laugh about. There was a very significant lack of men in the young lady's life. Well actually, there were two men in her life, but really they didn't count, they were barely men, more of boys than anything. One was too busy eating to even acknowledge the existence of the opposite sex, and the other…well the other had more important things to worry about than girls, even if he did already have hundreds lined up, most of whom didn't even know his favorite color was green. And Hermione, well she had little to no experience in that department. Not colors. She knew that Harry liked green and Ron liked blue and Colin Creevey had taken a liking to pink when she was 14. The thing she didn't have a terrible amount of knowledge about was the other gender. Krum was deceivingly intelligent, and yet his interest in her had subsided to “Hermowniny, haff you had goot vether?” Ron and Harry didn't count. They were her friends, her first friends ever, so she wasn't in a hurry to cross that line with them, well one of them at least. With the other she had crossed that line a long time ago. No, not in that sense, get your mind out of the gutter, but their relationship ran far deeper, full of childish innuendo and sugarcoated backstabbing complete with formal attire.

Some would say that Hermione was fast approaching a nervous breakdown. She herself would only go so far as labeling herself as studious and conscientious. She was conscientious that this in fact was the year in which she had to decide what she wanted to do, forever. Law was particularly interesting, especially in the magical creatures branch, but Healing seemed appealing at times too. Frustrated at her lack of experience in the medical field, she cursed her parents for being muggle dentists and not magical dentists, even though Gregory Inverny had invented a tooth-brushing spell in 1715, coinciding in fact with Queen Anne's reign in the muggle world. Hermione was frustrated. Knowledge, knowledge! She could name and place all the countries in Africa on a map at the age of 3, do her times-tables through 12 at 4, and had completed her study on estuaries by the first year of grammar school. Yes, Hermione had a lengthy list of academic accomplishments, but what did it mean? Where was the significance in her seemingly meaningless, but nevertheless impressive record of achievements? As a 10 year old, she had known exactly where she wanted to go: University, journalism major, further education, staff writer, editor eventually. It was a mantra that cheered her through the years of hell, also known as primary school. The kids were horrible, the food made her ill, and their library only extended to Judy Blume. No offense to the woman, but her books were juvenile, especially compared to Great Expectations or Sense and Sensibility. But for all the lengthy titles and obsolete words, Hermione felt like she knew less now than 6 years ago, so here she was. Here sat Hermione Jane Granger, age 16, status: single (and looking), this being kept hush-hush from everyone, especially including men with names starting with R or H). As far as they knew, her main interest in life was books.

And they had been, but now she had so much more going on. She had her boys and they together bore the burden of ridding the wizarding community of evil, sans the population's knowledge. Hermione had more than her fair share of complication on the plate which fate had dished her. So maybe she didn't put as much time into her appearance as she could, and it's possible that she had abandoned brushing her hair for last minute studying more than once, but Hermione could be pretty if she wanted to, and that's what counted. Without her mother's relentless wheedling to stop slouching and wear appropriate attire at all times, Hermione had sunken into a rut of endless caffeine-augmented days. Now in fact, she was just emerging from a haze of Earl Grey induced buzz and Arithmancy provoked headache, and it was only 3 o'clock on a Saturday afternoon. The boys were playing quidditch in the lovely outdoors that often strived to lure the studious Hermione away from her beloved books, but that girl stuck to her convictions. As enticing as the prospect of sweaty boys was, the smell of dusty books was what really did it for Hermione. While other 15 and 16-year-old young ladies spent their weekends primping for dates, Hermione toiled away in the library, being careful to avoid smudging her 4 parchments with her ink-stained fingertips. She packed away her completed Arithmancy rubric in her bag and hastily pulled out a leather-bound tome. She grabbed a ballpoint pen from behind her ear and opened the book to a fresh page, flipping past dog-eared entries filled with crooked writing. She thoughtfully chewed on the end of the pen, and then scribbled something at the top of the page. It appeared that she was furiously working on her schoolwork, and if anyone approached her they would see no different, but Hermione Granger was in fact making a list, the List to be exact. But knowing Hermione, it wasn't a list; it was more of a short novel crossed with an extensive outline. Glancing over her shoulder would only lead to confusion, as three letters were all she had written as the title: RBW.

Author's Note:

So what does RBW stand for? I'm sure we all know, but then which of her boys does she have that “deeper” connection with? This was really only something that came up an hour ago, most likely a reflection of my fears that the years of studying aren't going to pay off. I too have a lack of men, but shush! Don't tell anyone. I don't really know where this is going, but nevertheless, reviews are love. Tell me what you think, the good, the bad, the ugly. What you like, what you don't. Just click the little button and record your reactions.

XOXO

SlaptheWhiteFerret

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