AN: For those of you who have read my story "Lav's Most Brilliant Idea Ever! working title," I am having difficulty progressing it. If you have any ideas, please don't be afraid to share them with me!
The idea for this story came to when while I was reading another fanfic (I do hope there isn't too much similarity, I don't personally think there is, but if there is, I didn't mean it…)
I don't own anything… the characters all belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling!
Story (Hermione's POV):
I hate this. I cannot stand it. I mean, what is up with it anyway? I cannot believe this has happened to me. No, I refuse to acknowledge the fact that it has happened at all. I outright deny it. If you ask me, I will say no. I will say no because I cannot let this happen to me. I cannot be one of those girls. I will not. I refuse to be.
I image you may be wondering what I am talking about. I suppose I will tell you. You see, it all started about a month ago. I was watching the quidditch team practice for the big game the day after. Harry wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, as was usual during a quidditch game or practice, he was concentrating solely on finding and capturing the golden snitch. Ginny had dropped the quaffle, and Dean was trying to catch it. Dean had been flying backwards, because of the angle the quaffle was coming to him at, and he flew smack dab into Harry. They both fell off their brooms and landed on the ground with a big thud. I ran over to them, to see if they were all right. This is where it all started. I realized that the thought that was going through my head was not, "Oh dear, I hope Dean is all right!" Instead, it was, "Oh dear, I hope Harry is all right!"
Now, you may be wondering why I would be thinking that the first thought would be the thought to enter my head, and not the second. It should have been the first thought. After all, what kind of girl would hope her friend is all right before her boyfriend? That's right. Dean is my boyfriend. We've been going out for a couple of months, two and a half to be exact. Oh, he isn't my knight in shining armor or anything, but he can make me smile. When I'm with him, I feel important, because he tells me I am everyday. When I was with Ron, I got so aggravated, because he would never say anything like that to me. He would say I'm a know-it-all, sure, but does that really count? I don't think so.
Anyway, where was I? Oh, right, of course. I realized right away that something was definitely wrong, because why would I put Harry's health before my boyfriend's health? I mean, sure, Harry is one of my best friends, but Dean is my boyfriend. I am supposed to care more about Dean than Harry.
Then why don't I?
I don't want to be the kind of girlfriend who likes her best friend while going out with someone else. That is why I refuse to accept that I like Harry. Because I don't, how could I? I have known Harry for years; wouldn't I have felt something for him a long time ago? Yes, yes I would have. So therefore, I do not like Harry. It must have just been a reflex; hoping Harry was all right. I mean he does get into trouble where he might not end up all right. Fighting Voldemort, playing a sport in which people have disappeared while playing and in which you could fall from great heights (which has happened before), and being the natural enemy of all that is Slytherin can really… make someone… not… be all right… Oh, you know what I mean.
Ever since that moment, when I thought of Harry before Dean, I cannot stop thinking about him. Him being Harry, of course. It is so annoying, not being able to control your thoughts; having them always seem to find their way to that one thing you are desperately trying to forget.
People tell me I am smart. If I am so smart, then why can't I figure out why I feel this way? Why do I have to like my best friend? I don't want to. I hate liking him. Oh, great, now I admitted to the fact that I like him! Nice going, Hermione! Now what am I going to do? I cannot like my best friend while I'm going out with someone else; I have already stated that fact. I must forget about Harry. I have to. Period.
I looked up from my journal as I heard someone breathing near me. I closed the book tight when I saw Ron's bright red hair in the corner of my eye.
"What are you doing?" Ron asked.
"Just, just writing, Ron. Honestly, what does it look like?" I said quickly.
"Oh, just wondering. Harry and I were wondering if you wanted to sneak down into the kitchens and have Dobby give us some pie or something. Unless you have plans with Dean or something," Ron responded.
I thought for a moment before speaking. If I say no, I could avoid Harry, which is my goal for the week. "Sure." Dang, why did I just say that?
"Good, come on, Harry is outside waiting by the portrait hole with the invisibility cloak," Ron said as he took my hand and pulled me up. My journal fell off my lap and on to the floor. Before I could reach down and grab it, Ron had pulled me toward the portrait hole, and it was too late.
If you leave out the fact that every time I looked at Harry, my insides squished and squirmed, the night was not too bad. Dobby got us some chocolate cream pie and a can of whipped cream. Ron pushed the top of the can, and the whipped cream got all over Harry's face. He looked so cute, trying to lick it all off. No, stop it. I will not think about Harry. I will not think of how cute he looks, or how funny he is, or how nice he is, or anything related to Harry Potter! I will not.
I cannot believe that I actually let Ron take me downstairs without putting you back in my room. Although, Ron didn't give me much of a chance to put you away. I'm just glad that nobody took you. I hope no one read you! That would be just awful! What if someone did, and then they told Dean… or worse! Harry! I do not know what I would do if either Dean or Harry found out.
I put my journal away after writing in it and went to sleep. The next day brought about many things…
"Uh, Hermione? Can I talk to you for a minute?" Dean asked me as I was sitting down at the Gryffindor table, eating breakfast the following morning.
"Sure, Dean," I said as I stood up and followed him out the Great Hall.
"Hermione, last night, I saw a writing book lying on the ground by the fireplace. I picked it up to see who it belonged to. I opened it to see if there was a name. It opened up to a page, so I read it, thinking it might give a clue as to who the owner was," Dean said softly.
My eyes widened in shock and realization. Could he have read my journal? What if he read about how I like Harry? These thoughts swarmed in my head while he just stared at me, silent as a mime. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he continued speaking.
"Do… do you… do you like Harry?" Dean asked, looking directly at me.
I knew that I should not lie. I couldn't hurt Dean like that. But I wished so badly that I did not like Harry, and that I could say, "No, I don't like Harry, I like you, it's always been you." But I couldn't. I just couldn't.
I looked at him, tears welling up in my eyes, and nodded slowly.
Dean simply nodded in return, and slowly walked away.
Then I burst into tears.
I heard footsteps, so I quickly ran down the hall, hoping whoever it was hadn't seen me.
I heard someone running after me, so I turned around. Ron's worried face greeted me. I tried to stop crying, but I just could not.
"What's wrong? What happened? What did Dean say to you? Do you want me to kill him?" he said all this very fast.
I just shook my head and sat down in the middle of the hall. Ron sat in front of me, and asked me again what was wrong.
"I think Dean broke up with me. But it's kind of my fault," I said between gasps of tears.
"What? Why?" Ron asked.
"Because… because… because," I could not tell him. He wouldn't understand.
"Because why?" he inquired.
"Just because, I… I have to go," I said, and then I stood up and walked very fast to my dormitory.
Dean broke up with me. I can't blame him. I mean, he knows that I like Harry. I just hope he doesn't tell him! I wish so much that he wouldn't tell Harry, do you think he would? Oh great, now I am asking my journal questions. Please don't respond, I would be extremely freaked out. Oh great, now I am asking my journal to do me favors. I think I will just stop there.
Anyway, I think I scared Ron. I wouldn't tell him why Dean broke up with me. He just wouldn't understand. I know he wouldn't. He would say, "Then just tell Harry you like him. It's not that big of a deal," but in reality, it's a huge deal. I cannot simply go up to Harry, and say, "Hey, Harry, guess what. I like you!" It doesn't work that way with me. I just can't go up to guy and tell him I like him. Ron can go up to anyone and tell them how he feels, whether the feelings are good or bad. I wish I could. I really do.
"Hey, Ron told me what happened. Are you all right?" Harry asked, concern evident in his voice, and in his eyes as I turned to look at him.
I quickly shut my journal and responded, "Yeah, I'm okay."
"Liar." Harry replied softly.
"Excuse me?" I asked, afraid that he would want to know why I wasn't okay.
"I said you're a liar. I can tell when you're not okay, and you're definitely not okay right now," he said as he sat down on the couch next to me. He turned to face me.
I turned away, because I could not look at him. Not now.
He reached out his hand and tilted my face to look at him. I started to cry. He gently wiped away my tears with his thumb.
Dean walked in just then, and gave a loud cough. I jumped backwards in shock. Harry stared at him murderously. Dean narrowed his eyes at Harry, then he gave me a look that was part sad, part angry, and part disgusted. I looked down at my hands, which were now on my lap, because I didn't know what else to do.
As soon as Dean left, Harry looked at my quizzically. "What happened? Why did Dean look at me like that? Did I have anything to do with him breaking up with you? I'm going to kill him for hurting you the way he did," Harry said quietly.
"He didn't hurt me. Not really anyway. It's not his fault he broke up with me. It's mine. I did it," I said, finally looking up.
"What?" Harry said slowly.
I started to cry again. "I'm surprised that Dean didn't say something," I said between the tears that were streaming down my face.
"What do you mean? What could you have possibly done that would make Dean break up with you?" Harry asked.
"I… I… You see… I… I have to go," I cried out, jumping off the couch and running to the library, my journal in hand.
As soon as I entered the library, I ran to the farthest corner and sat down on the floor.
I was talking to Harry, and Dean came in. He didn't say anything, but he gave us each a look. Harry gave Dean a look too. I think he is mad that Dean broke up with me. Harry said that he was going to kill Dean because he hurt me. I wish he knew that it is HIS fault that Dean broke up with me. Well, it's Harry's fault that I cannot stop thinking about him, anyway. I wish I could just get him out of my head. But alas, that will never happen. I wonder if there is such a thing as an anti-love potion. If there is, I want it. I don't want to like Harry. I wish I could just be perfectly content being his friend. But I can't.
Does that make me a bad person? I hope not. I don't want to be a bad person. I just want to stop thinking about Harry.
This is so frustrating. Sometimes, I wish that the Dursley's had never let him come to Hogwarts. But then I remember that he if hadn't, everyone who was at Hogwarts would be dead, because Voldemort would have risen to power after receiving the Sorcerer's Stone and killed everyone. I would wish that he would be banned from coming here again, but I know that I would not be able to live without him. That is a very scary thought. I don't like depending on something, or someone, that much. It frightens me a lot.
"Go away," I said as I heard footsteps nearing me.
I froze. It was Harry.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because, I am determined to find out what is bothering you. It doesn't appear to be the fact that Dean broke up with you, which really confuses me," Harry said as he sat down on the floor next to me.
I bent my head down; I could not meet his eyes. He continued staring at me, and we sat that way for what seemed like an hour. He then lifted my head so that I would have to look at him, or at least, in his general direction. I closed my eyes.
"What is it?" he whispered.
Wordlessly, I handed him my journal. I figured that he would find out eventually. Dean will tell someone, word always gets around this school. He took it inquisitively and opened it to the last page.
After he finished reading the last entry, he took a deep breath. "Wow, Mione," he said slowly. I nodded and tears threatened to escape down my cheek yet again.
He looked at me. I started to cry. He wiped away my tears with his thumb again. He slowly leaned forward, until there wasn't even an inch between us. Then he lightly pressed his lips against mine. He pulled back, and I opened my eyes widely. I couldn't help but smile. He smiled back and kissed me again.
"I had no idea you felt that way," Harry said after we pulled apart again.
"That had been the intention," I said slowly, looking at him.
He smiled in response. "Why did you never tell me?"
"Fair enough. I just wish that I had had the courage to tell you that I feel the same way a long time ago," Harry said.
I looked at him again. "Do you seriously like me?"
"Yes. I was kicking myself everyday after Dean asked you out. I have to confess that I had hoped that you two would split up," he said shyly.
I laughed in reply. Then I kissed him.