MINE? → HERMIONE GRANGER.

xxxi. imperfect

where are you? why did you leave me alone? thank for the memories though. i love you so much, ceddie.

- your other half

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narrator
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dating has never been a problem for blake, she never imagined she would fall for someone. everyone was attracted by her, where ever she went they would watch her every step. she hated it, but now that cedric was gone. she hated it even more, she's tried to push them away but they always seem to come back.

she didn't want anyone to intrude her personal life, harry has dealt with this ever since he arrived at hogwarts. he and her were rivals then because even though they didn't know each other, they certainly believed what they were told until that day in the shrieking shack.

the day blake fell in love, she didn't even realize it, not even now. everyone has been practically on their knees waiting, wanting her to confess. to who? hermione jean granger.

harry has seen the worst of her complaints for her love. he hates it, she was his friend first before they realised she was his godsister. he knows that their bond was going to be much more valuable now but he meant it to be like this.

he was on his way to detention with umbridge. he arrived shortly since he was quite near. he knocked on the door. he heard a faint 'come in'.

he opened the door to be met with plates displaying moving cats? he knew she was crazy but not like this. adding to the room, was the colour pink, everywhere. this woman must have an obsession with it. he freaked out inside.

he turned his head towards the professor as she spoke. "good evening, mr potter."

"sit," she added, nodding to the desk beside her. harry didn't notice it when he came inside.

after he sat down, she spoke again. "you're going to do some lines for me today, mr potter." he went to grab his quill and ink but she stopped him by saying. "no, not with your quill. you're going to be using a rather special one of mine,"

she stood up while grabbing a quill and placing it on his desk. "now, i want you to write, 'i must not tell lies.' "

"how many times?" he asked, already getting annoyed.

"well, let's say, for as long as the message takes to sink in." she spoke from behind him.

he realised she hasn't given him any ink. "you haven't given me any ink,"

"oh, you wouldn't need any ink," she stated.

he faced the paper again, starting to write down what she wanted. after a while, his left hand started to sting like it's being hit by a needle repeatedly.

he grunted at the pain which feels like hell rained on his hand. he stopped writing, and glanced at his hand. he saw some type of bruise.

the words he wrote just now was being written on his hand. he softly grunted in response. he soon realized the ink he's using to write was his blood.

umbridge walked towards him, his gaze following her. she settled in front of him. "yes?"

there was a long pause. "nothing,"