dream boy - dramione

o n e

It had been 5 lengthy months, and now Hermione Granger felt as though she were a stranger to reality. Or to the norm, at least.

Her days were consumed with the tireless routine of staying hidden within woodland areas and doing what she could to survive. Of course, she wasn't alone. She was accompanied by the wizarding-worldly famous Harry Potter; a boy who had accepted her as his friend in their first year. Even though she'd practically pushed her way in to his and Ron's tight group, she fit as snug as a worm in the heart of a nut.

Despite their popular status, the trio's lives were far from spectacular. Beginning from age 11, the three had encountered more deadly attacks than a muggle had hot dinners. Whether it be spending countless evenings reading up counter curses or information that would come handy in time of battle - you could bet that Hermione was always busy.

Except for now.

Now, here she sat, staring at her frozen palms whilst leant against the bark of a frosty tree. For a few days now, there had been nothing. No glimpse of danger, no ounce of threat - it was the wanted blissful silence of white noise in the dark. Only now, she wanted the noise more than anything. The noise to fill the pain, the sorrow, and the pure heartbreak.

Exactly one month ago, Ron had left them. Abandoned them completely. Why, you ask? It was ironic. She was the brightest witch of her age, but yet became so clueless to Ron's actions. Sure, he had always had trouble with his temper (As did Harry) and he tended to hold grudges and brood a lot. He wasn't always the most clear-headed character, and he often made poor judgements. But she never thought he'd leave, not even once. After all, this was the boy who sacrificed himself at eleven years old, for Merlin's sake! It baffled her but most of all, it hurt her. Especially with the turbulent history they'd had behind closed doors.

"Hermione?"

Her thoughts were broken by Harry's voice, who sat across from her. He sounded hesitant, but firm. She knew what he was going to ask, and knew he wouldn't stop until he got an answer he believed.

"Yes?"
"Are you okay?" He responded almost instantaneously.

Her eyes fell to her lap; a now subconcious movement to whenever she lied at this question. He'd ask her how she was doing at least twice a day and she'd always tell him she was fine. Hermione was strong, and she'd never want to expose her vulnerability. Not to a single soul.

But it felt as though with each day she was growing worse at this. And to be frank, she was sick of being the support system. She wanted to be the one who could feel conciously but with Harry and Ron by her side, she always felt she needed to be the tough rock. The motivator. The optimistic outlooker. Maybe now, it was time to be honest with herself.

"Hermione?" He repeated "Please tell me what you're thinking"

With a drawn out sigh, she replied "I don't know how much longer we can do this Harry."

She shifted uncomfortably with this reveal of feelings and lent forward, away from the bark. Her back felt numb after forcing herself to remain upright and not fall asleep early. Things were quiet, yes, - but was this too good to be true?

"I'm exhausted." She admitted sadly.

Harry, whose eyes were fixed on his friend, nodded sympathetically. He'd understand, she thought, he's living it too.