Realizations

She never could explain why she chose that particular moment to look up from her books, but afterwards – if she could be bothered to talk about it – she would always maintain that this second changed her life.

One second, she was Hermione, prudish bookworm, not-quite-a-girl, practical and unromantic to the core – and the next second she saw Ginny. She saw Ginny.

It was the way the sun fell on her hair, highlighting it with all the colours of the sunset.

It was the way she held her head right then, and the tiny, somewhat melancholy smile she almost didn’t aim at Harry (not that he noticed, he never did)

It was the way she pressed her books towards her chest, and the angle of her eyebrows, and the seven freckles on her nose, and the millions of other details and memories of stray thoughts that just fell into place, and suddenly everything made such a beautiful sense.

And because she was Hermione, her first conscious thought was a simple “Of course! Why didn’t I realize it earlier?” But then reality caught up with her and she hastily collected her scrolls and quills and books and tomes, excused herself and ran all the way up to her dormitory where she threw herself on her bed and cried.

Not like Hermione at all, but today Hermione had changed.