Inordinate Love

September.

"Enemies to lovers. Or, more like friends to lovers who think they're enemies. It's a pretty interesting story for you, I think."
- Whitney G.

Hermione:

It's a silly thing, love. And I, Hermione Granger, never dreamed that it would exist for me. Until...

"He looks a bit ill." I said, trying not to show any compassion with my tone, so that Harry would not catch on. "Draco, I mean... don't you think?" I said, while sitting in the great hall where the voices of my fellow classmates was echoing off the tall concrete and the laughter of the houses were slightly shaking the four walls. I found myself staring at the boy with the long face, the one who once had bright, gray eyes, but they were now turned dull from exhaustion.

Harry frowned. "I dunno." He replied, "I guess so. He kind of always looks like that. Why do you care anyways, Mione?" I shook my head. Of course Harry didn't see it. He is blinded by his childish "hatred" that began in the first year when Malfoy tried to befriend him. To be fair it goes a little deeper than that.

Why did I care, anyways? "I don't." I said after a long pause, "I was just observing." I said, shaking my head and getting back into my book, examining the familiar pages. I was lying if I said I didn't care though because I did.

I did care, and I wanted to show him that I cared.

So yes it was a lie I did care, but I was also "observing." I don't know why I chose to be so observant of everything. Most importantly I do not know why I chose to be so observant of him.

I wanted to know why his eyes were black, why his skin was pale, and why his expressions were muted.

I always noticed the way he slouched when something was wrong, or how he placed his wand to his temple when he was concentrating.

Today, he was doing both.

I tried not to look long, but I couldn't help it. He looks beautiful even when he looks off put or in disarray. It didn't matter. His hair is always perfect, a strand was never out of place.

So I focused on him. The way he has hunched posture and how his hand is on his cheek, he looked sad. I wanted to know why this was, but I guess I never will.

I peeled my eyes away and put them back to my book, but he saw me staring, and for a second, I thought I saw his expression morph into a half smile.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't too closed off. Perhaps he wasn't a boy who was too far gone that he was beyond helping.

Maybe he just needed someone, someone to talk to.

But I was silly.

I was silly to think that I could be the one to help him. Me, Hermione 'mudblood' Granger. Thinking I could be the one. The one to bring him the light.

I even sound silly.

I close the book, along with my thoughts. "I'm going to the library if one of you just so happens to need me." I exclaimed to my two best friends. Harry and Ron simply nodded in response. I knew they weren't going to need me, but, if they did, they would wait, because they hated the library. Also, part of me also hoped they wouldn't need me.

}*{

The library is my favorite spot in the castle. The smell of old books and new books filled my nose, as I ran my fingers along the spines of the books on the shelf. My hands stopped as they found a recognizable bind. Romeo and Juliet, one of my favorites. I grabbed the oh-so-familiar book and walked to the chair I always sat in, the one that was made of red velvet and tucked away in a corner. It just seemed more excluded, more quiet. I flipped open the pages and began to read the words my brain was so accustomed to. I let myself fall back into the familiar story, completely engaged with the words, cut off from everything else around me.