I'd Go Fictional For Hermione Granger

For Hermione Granger.

When we first met nine years ago, I recall having hair on my head and being particularly thrilled about seeing wizards and magic and allthat — simply sprinkles on top of a rich, chocolate cake now — and I sank into my seat at the theater with wild ideas of what I would see and hear, none of which involved you. Back then we were either amazed, or we were afraid. My mouth was fixed open, until I threw my arms around my best friend sitting to my left, unbelievably afraid of He-Who-Would-Often-Be-Named; I thought I was going to piss myself and maybe I did. Now we can't help but be amazed and afraid at the same time, because who are we kidding, life is heightened by now. I jumped, and I do mean jumped, into my seat because I fucking hate snakes and never bothered to check the time because of how lost I was in your world. But it would probably be far more accurate for me to say that I didn't care how late it was because of how lost I was in you.

Let it be known, right now, that this monologue is in no way addressed to Emma Watson. She is your vessel, your illustrious face and smile, but she is not you. I know nothing about Emma Watson. I have never seen Emma Watson walk across a room before. I don't know what we would talk about. Maybe acting, but I wouldn't care and she would dismiss me immediately anyhow. There's also the very obvious problem that she exists, but I'll get back to that.

I remember how I felt walking out of the second movie. My pants were dry. I was a yappity dog; my heart felt like it was lodged in my stomach and I could tell, somehow I could tell, that this would happen to me multiple times. That I would go into the movie expecting to be amazed, and come out feeling in love. And all the things that go with that: jealousy, confusion, resentment. The story repeated itself every year or so: Watch movie, Walk out breathless, and over the next month forget the experience completely. Yet though every time it has felt like a genuine crush, there was always something that felt... intangible. Very odd. Simply unsettling. But you slipped away from me before I could ever figure it all out. But I think somewhere along the dark road, shouting over the winter winds at four in the morning, I understood a little more clearly.

It's the way you don't play on the fringes. It's the way you sit with your knees so close to your chest. It's the metamorphosis effect. It's the fact that holy shit you're smarter than me. It's always the tone of surprise. It's realizations that come rapidly and sharp. It's being radiant even when charred and beaten.

In the dim light of my room about one year ago, a friend told me

"It's her judgment"

and I either didn't understand or agree, because we were talking about someone who existed, here, but now I'm GETTING it: It's your judgment.

But above all, and this burns with me the most, it's the "Mudblood" engraved in your arm.

Your vulnerability. The prejudices held against you by the noble and wicked.

I want to save you Hermione I want to be the one who saves you.

I have chosen to throw aside even coveted sleep to bring this ethereal ramble to you, even as I sit here fully aware that you do not exist. Logic dictates that this was a waste of energy, a waste of paper, of carbon lead, of finger cramps and of course a waste of TIME because if only I could tell you how much there is to write. I know you won't hear me. But the people I normally write for never hear me, either, so anything is worth a shot, you see...

...but if only you WERE real! My cramped fingers would find relief in your hair! You would be free from the darkness of where you came from. We would dance cheek-to-cheek, and I'd feel yours, real and warm and right there, right there. I would tell you to close your eyes; you would thank me for such a wonderful surprise. And there in my arms, no one would ever, ever call you Mudblood again.

But as long as I'm wishing for things, I would rather I leave behind all this wondering, all this shouting and longing, and fade into your non-existent world, where we could non-exist together, fornever and eternity.