A/N - just another thanks to those who have reviewed. I'm not too sure how this chapter will be received but here it goes!! I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 3 - Conversations
Hermione
"Are you looking forward to the Ball next Saturday, Miss Granger?"
I turn to the professor and frown - how did we get onto the Ball?
"No, not really," I reply, looking back out to the lake.
"Oh, I would have thought it would be something to look forward to," she continues, "a chance to dress up and dance with young Mr Potter…"
"Harry?" I blurt, quite loudly actually, turning to her so sharply I'm sure I've put my neck out, "why would you think I'd be dancing with Harry? For one, he hates to dance. Two, he can't dance. And three, he's not mine to dance with!"
"Are you not attending the ball with Mr Potter?"
"Of course not!" She looks at me with a frown.
"You make it sound like the concept is beyond all semblance of normality," she tells me, "why is it so absurd that I would think Mr Potter would be going with you to the Victory Ball? You are both friends, very good friends so I understand. To me it makes perfect sense."
"I don't see why," I pout as all my earlier insecurities return ten fold, "he would never go to something like that with someone like me."
"Codswallop," the professor snaps.
"Pardon?"
"I said, codswallop," she confirmed for me, "what's this nonsense about Mr Potter not going with someone like you? He would be honoured to be seen with you on his arm!"
"No he wouldn't," I fire back, forgetting that she is a highly respected teacher, "he doesn't fancy girls like me!"
"Mr Potter doesn't 'fancy' intelligent, pretty and totally capable young women? If he is anything like his father, I find that very hard to believe!"
"I'm not pretty!"
We look at each other in silence and I'm sure the look on her face is mirrored on mine - stubborn determination. For me, I'm determined not to believe that my favourite teacher thinks I would be good enough for Harry, because I'm not. Sure, I can't see him with an airhead or with someone who can't take care of themselves…
"So you feel Mr Potter is so shallow that he would only court someone who is beautiful?"
"Of course not," I say, bristling at the 'shallow' comment, "but he is attracted to athletic, gorgeous girls…"
"You are an attractive young lady, Miss Granger…"
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
"Yes you…"
"I'm not good enough for Harry!" I scream, angrily standing and beginning to pace, "I'm not good enough for him and never will be! I have given him everything of me and he gives me nothing! I would do anything he asks of me and the one thing I want him to ask, the one thing that would make everything right, will never happen because I'm not beautiful! Sometimes I'm not even that smart! I don't deserve him!"
"I never realised your self esteem is so low…"
"Oh, come on!" I fume, turning to her - really angry now, "the brightest witch of my age? The girl with the hair the looks like a combination of a birds nest and the head of Medusa? The girl who had buck teeth until the age of fifteen? Bossy! Know-it-all! Determined to quash all fun because it may be against the rules! Mudblood! I've heard it all! Why would I have self-esteem issues?
"I spend all my time with two boys who didn't even realise I was a girl until Viktor asked me out! Ron spent ages dancing around me, acting like he liked me but when he had his chance he chooses Lavender bloody Brown!
"Meanwhile, Harry fancied first Cho then Ginny, both perfect, both everything I'll never be! Neither of them chose me! The girl that they spent all their time with! Oh no, I'm just a friend, like a sister to them and do you know why? Because I'm not like those girls and I'll never be like those girls and no-one wants a girl like me!"
Exhausted by my rant, I hide my face in my hands and try frantically to cry quietly. My back is towards the professor and although I feel some embarrassment from my outburst, I really just don't care anymore. I've had enough of today, I really have.
"It seems I've been somewhat deluded," the professor says after a few moments.
"Wha..at do you mean?"
"From the moment you walked into my classroom, I saw a lot of myself in you," she continued and I listen in numb shock, "independent, intelligent but maybe somewhat socially inept. When you were befriended by Harry Potter, and of course Mr Weasley, I admit I was a bit concerned. I knew of Harry's past and suspected what his future held. What I knew of your nature made me wonder how long the friendship would last.
"However, you three became inseparable with each of you influencing the other in positive ways - those two boys would not have done so well in their schoolwork if it wasn't for you while they showed you how to relax somewhat.
"I have taught at this school for over forty years and one knows a teacher is not supposed to have favourites, but you, Miss Granger - I couldn't help but watch your progress with interest.
"I watched a shy, uncertain little girl grow into what I thought was a beautiful, confident young woman.
"Though your intelligence could never be brought into question, how you applied your knowledge in combative situations, well, there were concerns. Yet you've proved in this final year that you are more than competent in defending yourself.
"Your loyalty to Harry is to be commended and your reign as prefect then Head Girl was exemplary.
"The world is at your feet Miss Granger. All you need to do is have the confidence to reach out and grab it."
I look at my old teacher with my tears still running down my face - she looks back at me with a small smile.
"Do…do you really mean all those things?" I ask her - not quite believing anyone other than my parents actually would.
"I don't say things I don't mean, Miss Granger."
This is true. With a large sigh, I sit back down and look at my hands in my lap.
"If I'm all that," I whisper, too scared to talk any louder, "if I am beautiful and confident and all those things, why hasn't Harry chosen me?"
"So you are placing you whole self worth into the decisions of a young man?" the professor asks me softly, placing one of her hands on my arm, "Hermione, the most important person in your life, the one person that you need to ensure you like - love even - is you."
I look up at her, "Me?"
"Yes," she smiles, "how can you expect anyone else to see what a wonderful person you are if you can't see it yourself? Now, we're not talking about loving who you are as much as Gilderoy Lockheart because, quite frankly, that is just wrong. What I mean is being comfortable with who you are, proud of who you are and know that you are the best you can be."
I deflate somewhat.
"I am smart," I admit.
"Very smart."
"But not about life, you know?" I look at her sadly, "I mean, look at the mess I've got myself in now. If I was really smart, I wouldn't be here, crying to you."
"Hermione, you are only eighteen years old," the professor tells me and I'm sure there's a twinkle in her eye, "experience makes you smart about life not books. You, along with your two friends, are mature way above your years…"
"Even Ron?" I interrupt before I could stop myself.
"Even Ron," she chuckles, "though perhaps he is a little bit behind yourself and Mr Potter," suddenly the twinkle is gone and is replaced with a sadness, "you have all seen and faced horrors that no-one, especially those so young, should ever have to face. This has forced you all to grow up too quickly. But life still has a lot to teach you. You can't know everything at eighteen Miss Granger. Even Professor Dumbledore, who had lived a long, long time, would confess that he still had a lot to learn."
I look at my old teacher and I understand - she's right, of course. Sometimes I forget that I'm a teenager because for so long we had to think of saving the world, especially last year when our lives consisted of Horcruxes and Voldemort.
"Will you teach me?" I ask after a few moments.
"It's not something that one learns in a day, Miss Granger," she tells me kindly, "but I can show you the tools needed. It will be up to you as to whether you wish to use them or not."
"I just want to be happy…"
"Happiness comes from within."
I nod then listen, and talk, then listen some more. I spend the rest of the day sitting with Professor McGonagall on the banks of the Black Lake with Professor Dumbledore's tomb gleaming behind us. When I leave Hogwarts late that afternoon, I feel lighter somewhat and a whole lot happier within myself.
Hedwig is waiting for me when I get home with a note from Harry asking if he could see me, that we need to talk. It takes all my self control not to rush over to the Burrow and ask him what's wrong. Instead I send a note back saying that I couldn't tonight and tomorrow I was spending with my parents but I'd see him soon.
The thing was, it wasn't a lie. I had already vowed to spend more time with mum and dad because I had cast them aside so often the last few years. We planned to catch the train to Cornwall and spend the day at the beach. Which we did and you know something, it was brilliant.
When we got home, there were two owls waiting for me - one from Harry and one from Professor McGonagall. I opened hers first and smiled at her invite back to Hogwarts the next day. I resist the urge to say yes immediately and instead take the note of Hedwig's leg and read it. Harry asks again to see me, that it's important.
I stop and think.
For so long I've spent my life making sure Harry was okay - he has Ginny to make sure he's okay now. The most important thing on my mind at the moment is making sure I'm okay.
I tell the professor I'll see her tomorrow and then let Harry know that I've got something on and I'll see him later.
Monday, mum and dad leave for work and at a reasonable hour, I head off to Hogwarts. With the weather a bit overcast, Professor McGonagall and I spend our time in the castle but continue where we left off the other day and once more I learn a lot more about myself. When I get home, there are no owls and I feel a bit disappointed but realise there is nothing I can do about it so shake it off and go and make my parents dinner.
My mother had organised Tuesday off and we spent the day shopping. I began telling her what I was doing at Hogwarts and our conversation turns to self development and self awareness. We spent all afternoon sitting in a park, watching the swans and talking. I don't think I've ever talked as much as I have the past few days.
The thing is, it felt brilliant, like I was releasing something I had been holding onto for a long time. I realised that night as I lay in bed that in fact I was releasing something. I could never really talk to Ron or Harry about how I felt, and after my spat with Ginny in my sixth year, I lost her as a confidant as well. Now it just felt good getting rid of all the frustration that I had been feeling.
Wednesday was back at Hogwarts. We spent the day in Professor McGonagall's private quarters which was really quite a privilege. It was exactly how I picture her home to be - tidy, efficient with little bits of quaintness dotted around. We spent our day reminiscing about our lives, with hers obviously dominating but her stories were so fascinating that I was enthralled. Sworn to secrecy on most of her tales, my respect for Professor McGonagall grew immensely. She is quite a remarkable woman.
I left Hogwarts to the sound of workmen getting ready for the Victory Ball that coming Saturday. Seeing them brought me back down with a thump at the memory of what lay ahead.
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Harry
When I got the first owl back telling me she couldn't make it because she had planned to spend time with her parents, I was okay. I remembered she had told me of the planned trip to Cornwall and it was understandable that she wanted to spend some time with her mum and dad.
But when I got the second decline, my heart sank. Ron's brilliant plan had failed; Hermione didn't want to see me. For the first time in over seven years, Hermione had turned her back on me.
My life is now officially bollocks.
Ron tried talking me into owling her a third time because there was no way she would refuse a third request. Something inside me told me she would. Meanwhile Ginny seemed to make it her personal mission to cheer me up and started following me around every where with little peppy speeches that instead of making me feel better, made me want to just throttle her.
Which is why I'm locked in my room, on my own, staring out of the window and ignoring the blank bit of parchment in front of me that should have some semblance of a speech on it. The speech was really the furthest thing from my mind (or to put it another way, every time I went to write something, I thought of Hermione and my thoughts went elsewhere) but I knew I had to start. Pretty soon.
Sighing, I made myself think of what I wanted to say to those who were going to be at this stupid Ball and I really didn't know. My thoughts (or lack of them) were jarred by a tap on my door and with some trepidation and fear that it might be Ginny, I asked who was there. When Remus replied, I let out the breath that I didn't realise I was holding and opened the door.
"Hey Harry," he greeted me fondly, making his way into the room, "how's it going?"
"Brilliant," I mutter as I shut the door and re-ward it.
"Arthur and Molly are a bit worried that you've locked yourself in your room for the last few days," he tells me as he sits on my bed and I return to my desk.
"Well they don't need to be," I reply, "I have to write this stupid speech and with Ginny bothering me every two seconds…I just needed to be alone."
Remus looks at me strangely and I could see he was trying to work out if I was telling him the truth. I was, but perhaps not the whole truth. Yesterday I had yelled at Ginny to leave me alone after she had started to have a go at Hermione and now I think the whole Weasley clan have cottoned on to my more than friendly feelings towards my best friend. Therefore it was only a matter of time before the whole wizarding world also knew - well, at least Remus and other members of the Order any way.
"Any luck with the speech?" Remus asks and the threat of a heart to heart about my love life is thwarted.
"No," I sigh, "I don't really know what I want to say. Hermione was supposed to help me…"
So of course I bring Hermione back into the conversation when I didn't really need to. Idiot.
"Ah," my old professor says knowingly, "there was mention downstairs of the somewhat absent Miss Granger. It's not like her to not help you with a task."
"No, it isn't," I reply a bit more tersely than I meant to.
"Harry, is everything alright?"
I look at Remus and want to say, no, everything isn't alright. I live in a house with my ex-girlfriend who wants to get back together with me while the girl I really like isn't talking to me. On top of that I have to make a stupid speech at a stupid Ball only two days away and I haven't written a word. Instead I mutter
"I'm fine."
He doesn't believe me and that's okay with me. Remus is good at not poking and prodding until I tell him the truth. Unlike Hermione.
Damn.
"Right," he smiles, playing along with the lie, "then I'll leave you to it. My suggestion with the speech? Just say what's important to you…"
"I'm not sure the wizarding world wants to know what's important to me," I interrupt with a scowl.
"Who cares about what the wizarding world want?" Remus smiles as he stands, "I think you've done quite enough for the wizarding world Harry."
"Yeah," I agree and leave it at that.
"You take care," Remus continues, heading for the door, "and if you ever need someone to talk to, you know I'm here."
"Yeah," I say again, "thanks."
Remus just nods and leaves. I sit there for a moment and look at the closed door. Just write what's important to me, which would be the people who have helped me and who have believed in me from the start. That was what was important and suddenly I knew what I wanted to say.
Casting new charms on my door, I turned to the blank piece of parchment and began to write.