[ Hermione could easily fall into the trap of hating her scar. She had, once, when she had first received it, when the burning pain was the only familiar thing and the blood red mark against her skin had been the center of her focus; it was a brand, a reminder that, no matter what she did, no matter how hard she fought or tried to prove herself she would never be anything more than dirt in the eyes of the purebloods. Not all of them, of course, and she was always quick to remind herself of it, but so many of them had been Death Eaters, so many of them had signed up to this philosophy that it was, at times, hard to think of her fight as possible.
But she had come out of it fighting, with as much fierce determination as she had ever had. She had stood up and told the world that she didn't care if they called her mudblood, dirty, thief, anything. She had risen and told herself that she could fight to show just how strong and brave and smart she was; she was a Gryffindor, she was top of her class, she was the Brightest Witch of her Age and she would prove to the world that she was better than they had imagined her to be. All the newspapers that her played her as Harry's cheating girlfriend, all the rumours about her place, all the people that looked down at her and called her names - she would show them just who she was, and that was something, someone special.
The thing was, she could see that in Luke too.
She doesn't know what it is that's making her so desperate to learn more about him but she wants to know, she wants to understand the dreams she had shared with him and the nightmare that had overtaken him. She wants to know about him because she wants to offer him the same friendship and support she had shown Harry, not so long ago. Luke is important to her, the same way so many people here have become important to her, and when had she ever been the type of person to give up? There has never been a time where Hermione has thought that it's time to stop fighting, time to stop petitioning and crying out about injustices; she wants to graduate and do something about it. She might as well make Luke her test subject.
The question, though, makes her pause and she leans back, tilting her head before she nods. ] I remember reading about it once, when I was little. The eleventh was stealing some apples, wasn't it? I don't remember much about it, honestly, since it's been a long time and I've been a little focussed on magical knowledge than muggle mythology - or actual events turned to myth, in your world, I suppose?
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But she had come out of it fighting, with as much fierce determination as she had ever had. She had stood up and told the world that she didn't care if they called her mudblood, dirty, thief, anything. She had risen and told herself that she could fight to show just how strong and brave and smart she was; she was a Gryffindor, she was top of her class, she was the Brightest Witch of her Age and she would prove to the world that she was better than they had imagined her to be. All the newspapers that her played her as Harry's cheating girlfriend, all the rumours about her place, all the people that looked down at her and called her names - she would show them just who she was, and that was something, someone special.
The thing was, she could see that in Luke too.
She doesn't know what it is that's making her so desperate to learn more about him but she wants to know, she wants to understand the dreams she had shared with him and the nightmare that had overtaken him. She wants to know about him because she wants to offer him the same friendship and support she had shown Harry, not so long ago. Luke is important to her, the same way so many people here have become important to her, and when had she ever been the type of person to give up? There has never been a time where Hermione has thought that it's time to stop fighting, time to stop petitioning and crying out about injustices; she wants to graduate and do something about it. She might as well make Luke her test subject.
The question, though, makes her pause and she leans back, tilting her head before she nods. ] I remember reading about it once, when I was little. The eleventh was stealing some apples, wasn't it? I don't remember much about it, honestly, since it's been a long time and I've been a little focussed on magical knowledge than muggle mythology - or actual events turned to myth, in your world, I suppose?