Hermione Granger Imagines

𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒?; 𝑒𝓂𝓂𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝓈𝑜𝓃

We'd just broken up. I don't know what was going through either of our heads when we started dating, it wasn't going to last, that's all I remember at the beginning, and after that I had no clue. Maybe that was the hopeless romantic in me springing to life, or my undying love she joked. Because I feel like there was a part of me that loved her, that would stay with her, but not that day.

It was raining and the mood was off. I remember the night before I didn't get much sleep, I don't believe that's what prompted the argument though, I think I might've said something stupid. That's what she told me all the time, I said stupid things. And it wasn't like stupid as in grammatically or no smart enough for it, it was more, I made her mad.

I know I did, I know it wasn't easy being with me, and I know I was grateful for the six months she even gave me. I don't think she'd ever look at me the way she looked at that one girl. We were at a party, and I just remember seeing her so bright. Like when you realize you love someone, it's not really special, I think it's when you love them and you realize maybe they don't feel the same. That's what gets the special moment.

Like when you kiss you feel a spark, or hold hands, or you are always nervous around them, that's kind of the signs you love someone, but when you are about to lose them, it's different. You see them in a new light, like she was glowing and her smile was so pretty, I remember thinking I'd do anything to have her smile at me like that.

I know it was wishful thinking, and probably that hopeless romantic thing, because two weeks later we were both sitting on her couch, not talking. We just sat there for awhile, we weren't staring at each other, I don't think either of us had the heart, not with the conversation and fight that was about to happen.

I remember the same things while we sat in that silence, things I'd miss. Her messy hair sprawled out all over the bed in the morning, or her reading to me, her head on my chest. She was so close to my heart and she never once suspected I loved her.

There were more things I thought of, that I loved. How her cheeks would go rosy when she was holding a dog or some kind of animal. How she perked up at the sound of her name, or how shyly leaned up against me when we were in public. I think I loved those little things more than anything else. It wasn't her being pretty and famous that bagged her, it was the in between.

And as I sat on that couch, I realize deep down that I'd never get those little things again. I'd be sad for awhile, I'd get a week to forget, and I thought I was doing good, I really did. But it's really hard to get over someone who is always plastered everywhere. I wasn't a lost puppy when we broke up, I honestly couldn't tell you if i even cried, I was heartbroken, I just didn't see the point in feeling it.

But there comes a time when it's unavoidable, and I eventually saw her again. She looked like she always did, great. Looks could be deceiving. And I was never one for appearances. Something inside told me to check on her later, it was a party, I needed to get more comfortable, I stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets.