Chapter II

                                    

                                          
I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.
- Jane Austen (Pride and Prejudice)
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"I don't understand, how did this even happen? You and him?" Ginny was perplexed with her best friend.
                          
"I don't know, okay." Hermione said hiding her blush while arranging the flowers for the bouquet she was going to carry. Harry and Ginny was getting married that day and obviously she was the maid of honour. Although Ginny was extremely busy and nervous about her big day, she was no less concerned and intrigued about this interesting turn of events in her best friend's life.
"I don't know how or when it happened. I just sort of do..but I can't do anything about it. I have to sort of, you know, let it go." Hermione absent-mindedly tore a petal.
                          
"But Hermione...he was our Professor-"
                          
"Sorry, I didn't notice." Hermione snapped.
                          
"And he is way older-"
                          
"I know I know I know! Okay? There are a million reasons for me not to...but..."
                          
Ginny could see her going through a tumultuous battle in her very mind. She did not want to burden her with more. It is best to love wisely, no doubt; but to love foolishly is better than not to be able to love at all. She tried to sound a little amused. "I can very well understand where this is coming from...he has got a sexy charm, and he has been known to have girls fawning after him. Not many but occasionally, yes."
                          
Hermione smirked, picturing him, "I like mysterious people.
They instantly occupy your mind like it's theirs to take."
                          
Ginny watched her friend getting immersed in her own world and smiled to herself.
"How come I never got to know about this before?" she asked, while checking herself in the mirror wearing the wedding gown.
                          
"I told you Gin, I didn't even realise when it happened. If I loved him less, I might be able to talk about it more."
                          
"Whoa," Ginny whipped around, "Are we calling this 'love' already?"
                          
Hermione nodded, sheepishly, surprised at herself. "But nothing's going to happen now. That was it. He seems the most angry with me apparently for saving his life and I now regret the only thing I thought I never would. Not that I even expected anything to happen, you know. But it's just that..."
                          
"The heart always hopes."
                          
"Yes, but it's all futile. He wants nothing to do with me, he couldn't be any clearer about that....Oh well, what're you gonna do?"
                          
Ginny caught her friend's fake laugh in a second and she looked around sympathetically. "You will get over it, I know you, you are a strong girl. But I dread you going through the process. Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained. But you..."
                          
Hermione waved a hand, wanting to dismiss the matter as trivial. "Ah, don't worry, I'll be fine! It's no big deal." But after a few minutes she started again, proving that that was all she could think of. "You didn't see him, Ginny. After the war...what it did to him. I watched him. Day in and day out, I watched him. He is someone who is grieving. He is someone who has lost so much that he no longer cares about the gains. His eyes have long lost the ability to see and he just gazes at everything. His words are few and meaningful, but do not speak of anything that stews inside him. He no longer knows how to listen, he can only hear. He is distinct in a crowd, for he makes no effort to merge with them. To identify with something bigger than himself. He no longer thinks his life has a meaning. He just lives. Breathes. Exists. I let him grieve. For who he lost meant everything to him. And I, I grieve for him. His loss. His existence and the lack of it simultaneously. Not like he does, though. Because my loss I cannot explain. My grief, neither. How do you grieve for someone who is slipping away and all you can do is watch?"