A/N: I have always been a R/Hr shipper, but I got hooked on F/Hr after reading a friend's ff. I have been playing around with a story a bit and decided to throw out the prologue to see if it's worth continuing. If you like it, let me know. I'll continue with the story.
I watched Hermione as she sat in the corner pretending to read a book. I say that because she spent most of her time behind that particular book examining page 214. For the past month she had been 'reading' that book and hadn't turned the page once.
Every evening after dinner she would pick up the rather large book, sit on her pillow in the corner, and disappear behind that bloody book. When she was ready to come out of hiding for the evening she would clear her throat and sniffle before reappearing into the world with blotchy cheeks. Once she had put it back into its resting place on the shelf we all knew it was safe to speak to her.
We all knew what was taped to the inside of page 214, but we all pretended not to notice. We made sure to never touch the book on the shelf out of respect for the curly headed, brown-eyed witch.
Not that I wanted to touch the book. Just the thought of it could bring tears to my eyes. It had only been three months after all. The pain was still quite fresh for all of us. We had all lost either a brother, a best friend, a son….or in Hermione's case: her first love.
I won't call him her soul mate, because I can't think of God being that cruel. Hermione had done nothing but good in the world and she hadn't deserved to lose him. None of us had. So, I will call him her first love in hopes that she will find an even greater love throughout her life.
After all, the shock of his death was still so new. We couldn't deny her that little moment of peace every night. So, we all let her drown her sorrows in that book. 214. I've begun to hate that number.
Her movement brought me out of my thoughts and I watched as her fingers gripped the book a little tighter. I listened for a sniffle and waited for those big brown eyes to show themselves.
I felt myself smile warmly at her as she lowered the book to her lap. She stood up and returned the book back to its resting place; the book with Ron's picture nestled on page 214. I watched as her fingers grazed the spine once more and I heard her murmur a goodnight to it. My heart broke for her.