A/N: Just a fluffy and (hopefully) humorous one-shot I came up with in a few hours. I would've finished earlier except TV came in the way. I needed to get my mind off "Love Story" for a while. No, I didn't abandon it. Yes, I am working on it. Enjoy!
"I'm bored." Ron said for the seventeenth time that night.
"Do your homework for once, Ronald." Hermione piped up, not lifting her eyes from her two-foot long Charms essay.
He scowled and carefully aimed his quill at the bushy-haired Gryffindor sitting across him.
"Ron," Harry warned him, reaching across the table and pushing his arm down.
"Hey, she started it!" Ron whined like a five-year-old.
"Just relax, Ron. Tomorrow's Hogsmeade weekend, we can bum around and have fun. You up for it or what?"
"Fine, fine." Ron said, defeated.
"What about you, Hermione? You up for Hogsmeade or what?" Harry asked, looking at the girl busily writing.
Hermione looked up and smiled at her friend beside her. "I'll take the 'or what'."
"What? You're not coming with us?" Harry looked stricken.
She scooted closer to the raven-haired boy beside her and took his hand comfortingly. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I made plans with Luna and Ginny already. How about I come with you next weekend?" She asked, cocking her head to the side.
"Yeah, I guess." Harry murmured.
Hermione gave him a small smile. "If I had known that the lack of my presence would affect you so, I would've cancelled with Luna and Ginny."
"No!" He exclaimed. "Um, it's just that you always used to come with us and you know, it just—"
"Wouldn't be the same?" She finished, giving him her special smile (meant only for him, of course).
He nodded, giving her a sad smile.
"Well, you could spend the day with the boys, you know? And stop spending time with a girl all the time." She nudged her elbow to his arm.
"I guess." He mumbled.
"Well, come on. It's time for dinner." She said, packing her things.
Together, the three of them left for dinner in the Great Hall.
"I give her a nine."
"No way, she's more of a two." Harry paused, thinking. "Make that one and a half."
"What?! How could you think so lowly of Annalisa Smock?" Ron asked, feigning shock (or was he?).
Harry rolled his eyes. They were in Three Broomsticks, chugging down butterbeers and rating (mostly Ron) girls and women who came in. Ron was clearly enjoying himself, giving a score of 4-6 to leggy girls and 7-9 for any girl who was, er, large in the, em, chest area. And he gave a 10 to any girl who had both.
"Something up, mate?" Ron asked, peering warily at his best friend sitting across him. "I mean, the highest rating you've given was a two and that was to the waitress. I am absolutely sure that you would've given her a one but I know you added another point because she was the one who gave us our drinks!"
Harry sighed. "Because I know all these girls are just as shallow as a puddle of rain, Ron! I want a girl who doesn't twirl her hair with her finger. Speaking of fingers, she shouldn't have manicured nails. She wears shoes instead of those annoying strappy sandals. She doesn't flip her hair. She doesn't carry a handbag. She shouldn't even have a tad of make-up on. She—"
"Sweet Merlin, Harry! Make a list!" Ron yelled, exasperated while rolling his eyes.
Harry glared at the Weasley, giving him a frown then it slowly disappeared to a grin. "Why don't we do that?"
"Huh?" Ron asked, dumbly while looking up from his butterbeer mug.
"Make a list. We should make a list of our ideal kind of girl."
"A list? Well, I guess we could. You got some quills and some parchment?"
Harry nodded and opened his shoulder bag. He took out some quills and parchment papers.
"You actually carry some of this stuff around? Man, you're turning into Hermione."
Harry shrugged. "Guess she's rubbing off on me."
After ten minutes of quills scratching against parchments, Ron and Harry had their lists.
Ron's composed of:
Must be big in the chest area.
Must be leggy.
Must have nice hair.
Doesn't have to be (very) smart.
Must like Quidditch.
Must be big in the chest area."
"Er, Ron, you wrote the 'must be big in the chest area' twice." Harry said, awkwardly while putting the paper with Ron's chicken-scratch handwriting.
"I know." Ron replied, smugly. "I'll wait for a girl just like that."
Harry chuckled and shook his head.
"Let's see your list, Mr. Boy-Who-Lived." Ron said, smirking and reaching across the table.
Harry slid it towards him. "Go ahead."
Ron picked it up but just as he was about to read, Harry hit his arm lightly. "I think your ideal girl just came in." He whispered.
Ron looked up to see a chesty, leggy blonde enter. She had the shortest denim skirt Harry had ever seen and a shirt on that couldn't be called a shirt at all. She had the highest (and sharpest) heels and a glossy black handbag.
Ron was drooling so much into his butterbeer mug; he could've caused a flood (his mug was overflowing).
Harry was grimacing so hard; his scowl could've been permanently etched on his handsome face.
"I'll go check her out later. I need to read about your ideal girl." Ron said, finally tearing his eyes away from the girl's arse.
Harry rolled his eyes.
On his parchment read:
"Harry's List of Qualities for His Ideal Girl:
Cannot wear mini skirts or short shorts. (Shortest pair of pants should only end two inches below the knee.)
Cannot carry handbags. (Especially the glossy, girly ones.)
Cannot wear enough make-up to look like a clown.
Cannot toss her hair over her shoulder.
Should not strut.
Hair should be in their natural state. (Therefore it cannot be straightened, highlighted, curled, etc. artificially.)
Should not show any body parts such as mid-drift, thighs, cleavage, etc.
Cannot wear pants that are so tight, the girl's legs are numb.
Cannot have fitting clothes.
Cannot wear annoying, strappy sandals.
Cannot have manicured nails.
Cannot have claw-like fingernails.
Doesn't twirl her hair with a finger.
Should have an average IQ of 119.
Should have common sense.
Should have clothes that don't stick to their bodies like a second skin.
Must have brown eyes.
Can tie her hair up because she's isn't afraid of getting it messy.
Must wear shoes.
Treats me like a normal guy. (BECAUSE I AM ONE.)"
"Jeez, Harry." Ron exclaimed, putting the paper with Harry's neat script on it down. "The kind of girl you like is sort of… plain."
"Well, I like plain." Harry retorted. "To me, plain is beautiful."
"Huh, who'd have thought?" Ron asked himself. Then he picked the parchment up again. He reread it and his eyes narrowed at Harry after.
"Hey Harry," Ron started, looking the raven-haired boy sitting across him, sipping from his mug.
"Hmm?" Harry asked, swallowing a huge gulp of butterbeer.
"D'you notice that your list is sort of specifying a girl in Hogwarts?"
"Eh? Which one?"
"You know, it's—" The bell hanging above the Three Broomsticks door rang as someone entered.
"Well, who?" Harry asked, looking over at Ron.
"That girl." Ron pointed behind him.
Harry turned his upper body around, resting his elbow on the back of his chair. And at the counter stood Harry's ideal girl. Her pants were floor-length and loose and covered her white and black sneakers. She wore a black, long-sleeved, hooded sweater and her toffee-colored hair was tied in a messy ponytail. She had a sling bag hung on one shoulder and going across her body. Harry could see one of her hands that were playing with the zipper of her bag. It wasn't manicured and he was sure that it was cut nicely. He waited for the girl to at least show a bit of her face and his mouth dropped.
The girl had beautiful, brown eyes and she was smart to boot.
The girl was none other than Hermione.
"Her—Hermione?" He asked, louder than expected.
Hermione turned around and looked at the two boys, who were goggling at her as if she had grown three new heads. "Oh, hello Harry, Ron." She greeted, smiling.
"I figured you'd be here. Don't worry, I won't be staying long so I won't ruin whatever guy thing you two might be doing." She said, grinning.
"Yeah, yeah. Go on, you." Ron said, smirking.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You two should stay together often. Maybe Harry's manners and chivalry will rub off on you." She huffed and then left.
There was silence and then, "Merlin, Harry, how can you fancy her?" followed by a loud hit on the arm.
"So what, what?"
"So what, what, what?"
"ARGH! Aren't you going to do something?"
"Do something about what? My newfound feelings for our best friend? Merlin, Ron, I can't believe I've only noticed now! I'm in love with our best friend!"
"Yes, Harry, go shout it to the world." Ron rolled his eyes.
"… What if I get a tattoo?"
"I'm just asking, jeez."
"For goodness' sake, just tell the girl how you feel!"
"I just can't, Ron. It's—It's complicated."
"How?! Just tell her, 'Hermione, I'm in love with you.' That's all you've got to bloody do, Harry!"
"It's not that easy! I can't just go up and tell her, 'Hey Herms, guess what? I just found out I'm in love with you. Let's go have a quick snog.' That's stupid!"
"Well, how about we plan?"
"Plan? Plan what?"
"Urgh. You're some idiot, Harry."
"Something romantic, you dimwit!"
"… I've got it!"
"You've got what?"
"I've got an idea on how to tell her how I feel about her."
"You don't have to go through this trouble." Ron told Harry as they entered the Transfiguration classroom the Monday after.
"Yeah, I do. I've charmed the note so it'll lead her to the Quidditch pitch after class then you know the rest." Harry replied, watching Hermione come over to their usual seats.
"Hello boys," She greeted, sitting beside Harry.
"Hey Herms," Ron greeted, grinning. "I hope something big happens today."
"Hey 'Mione," Harry greeted, stomping on Ron's foot.
"What's got you boys in such a good mood?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow and smiling a chary smile.
"Nothing." They both replied.
Hermione opened her mouth to try and ask again when Professor McGonagall entered. She decided to question them later.
After an hour and a half (five hours on Ron's internal clock) of much fussing from Ron to Harry, Harry finally threw a note to Hermione with only ten minutes of Transfiguration class left.
She looked at him questioningly but Harry was watching McGonagall transfigure Neville's toad into a paper stork (which flapped its wings, of course) with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but she was sure the smile wasn't directed to what McGonagall was doing.
Hermione smiled and shook her head. She carefully opened the triangle-shaped but if flew from her hand and folded itself into a paper airplane. She looked at Harry but he was busily packing her things. Hermione followed in suit and watched as the paper airplane swirled around, as if choosing a direction on which to fly.
It finally chose one, pointing to Hermione. She frowned slightly and it poked her shoulder with its sharp point several times, earning tiny squeaks from Hermione. She grabbed a book from her book bag and hit it several times, missing quite often. The other students were laughing at her (excluding Harry, who was watching in horror as his plan failed) until it suddenly burst into flames.
They laughter ceased to look at the one who destroyed their current form of entertainment. McGonagall stood at the front of the classroom, her wand pointed at where the paper airplane was. She lowered her wand.
"Miss Granger, care to explain why you had a paper airplane chasing you around the classroom?" She asked, sternly.
Hermione blushed (quite prettily, Harry thought to himself) and replied, "Er, well…" She trailed off and glanced at her friend. Harry was staring at his shoes as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. "I wanted to—"
"I gave her the note." Harry interrupted, raising his hand. Ron looked at him with raised eyebrows.
"I see. I'm sure you know that note passing is not tolerated in my class." She said.
Harry nodded; avoiding the look Hermione was giving him. "I know, Professor."
"You will have detention after dinner, Mr. Potter. I expect you in this classroom by eight thirty. Dismissed!" She left, her robes billowing behind her.
Harry sighed and followed the other students out of the large classroom.
He was about to turn the corner when he felt someone pull on his arm. He turned to face a smiling Hermione.
"Oh, hey 'Mione." Harry greeted, not looking her in the eye. "Sorry about the note. It almost got you in trouble."
Hermione ignored the name he used. (She never really liked it, but of course, the fact that Harry used it was an exception.) "It's alright, Harry. Thank you for speaking up. What was in the note anyway?"
Harry blushed. "Oh, it was nothing."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
He nodded. "Nothing that can't be said out loud anyway,"
She opened her mouth to speak but the bell for class rung, interrupting her again. "Well, can you tell me later then?" She asked.
"Sure," Harry replied. Later doesn't necessarily mean today, right?
"Well, I'll see you later. I've got Advanced Arithmancy now."
Harry nodded then Hermione, feeling bold, leaned up and kissed his cheek, lingering for as long as she could. (They were standing in the middle of the hallway.)
She gave him a shy smile then sped off, heading for Professor Vortex's classroom.
Harry touched the spot on his cheek where her lips had left a tingling sensation and grinned, continuing his journey to the Common Room.
"Okay, Ron. New plan."
"No! No more plans! Just tell the bloody girl!"
"Come on, Ron. Just give me another chance."
"Fine! Stall all you want, Harry. Either way, it's going to come down to one thing and that's you having to tell her."
"You can't tell her anything, Ron."
"Swear on it."
"I swear on it."
"Good, so I decided to just…"
Hermione entered the Gryffindor Common Room to find her two best friends sitting in front of the fire, playing a game Wizard's Chess.
"Good evening boys," She greeted.
"Hey 'Mione," Harry replied, moving his bishop.
"Hey 'Mio—Hermione." Ron greeted.
Hermione smiled and sat watching their game. "Harry, you should move your queen two spaces back."
"Um, okay." He said, following her orders.
"Hermione! No cheating!" Ron bellowed.
"I wasn't cheating. Technically, I was only helping him." She smiled as Harry grinned at her.
"Now I have to rethink my strategy. Thanks a lot, Herms." He retorted, studying the chessboard.
"Harry, move your pawn two more spaces forward so it reaches the end of the board on Ron's side. It becomes a queen automatically." Hermione whispered into his ear.
Harry nodded, like an obedient schoolboy. Ron made his move, unsuspecting of Harry and Hermione's (has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Hermione thought, grinning) plan.
Harry did what Hermione had told him to and Ron's eyes widened. "You helped him again, didn't you, Herms?!" He yelled, getting frustrated at his two friends, who were currently smiling secretly at each other.
"Oh, Ron, it isn't fair that you keep winning." She said, giving him a dismissive wave of her hand then she leaned her head against Harry's broad shoulder. "Let Harry win sometimes." She added, hugging his arm.
Ron glared at the two of them. "Fine, whatever." He moved his rook, leaving his queen quit unguarded. Hermione whispered again in Harry's ear and Harry followed her instructions. He moved his pawn and killed his Ron's king. "Check and mate." Harry and Hermione said, grinning widely.
Ron yelled a series of curses and swears until he finally calmed down. "Hey Harry, you've got five minutes to find McGonagall." He said.
"Crap!" Harry said, getting up quickly.
"I'll come with you." Hermione volunteered, standing up as well.
Ron raised his eyebrows, curiously. "Don't you have homework?" He asked, glancing at her brown book bag lying on the sofa.
"I can always do it later." She said, taking Harry's hand and pulling him out of the Common Room.
Ron managed to mouth, "tell her" to Harry but Harry only shook his head.
"You will be doing lines, Mr. Potter." Professor McGonagall said.
"Yes, Professor." Harry replied, submissively.
"You will write, 'I will not pass notes in class' four hundred times and four being late for detention, you will have an additional fifty."
Harry nodded, wondering at what time he would finish.
After an eternity, his hand ached and his eyes drooped but he was finished.
"Very well, Mr. Potter." McGonagall said, examining his work. "You may leave."
Harry nodded, too tired to reply, and finally left. He checked his watch and it was already eleven twenty-three.
He sighed, deciding the he would just fall asleep on the sofa. When he reached the Common Room, the fire was still shining brightly. He went over to the sofa only to find Hermione sleeping on it, clutching a book tightly.
Harry smiled at her. Only Hermione would fall asleep with a book, he thought, pulling the hard covered book out of her tight grip. He sat at the end of the sofa, placing her feet on his lap.
After half an hour had passed, Hermione's eyes fluttered open. She leaned forward to find Harry staring sleepily into the fire.
"Harry?" She questioned.
"Oh, about time you got up, Sleeping Beauty." He joked, rubbing his eyes.
Hermione smiled at his tease and eased her foot off his lap.
"Why were you still down here?" He asked her as she sat up and faced the fire.
"Oh, well, I was waiting for you actually. I told Ron and he said you needed to tell me something. What is it?" She looked over at him, her look curious.
"Right, that… thing I needed to tell you. Um, it was just that…" He trailed off, not wanting to tell her just yet. Then he remembered his plan. "… I just wanted to ask you if you could meet me in the Quidditch pitch tomorrow after dinner, say nine?"
"Oh. Alright." She said, looking disappointed? Harry mentally asked himself. Suddenly, she sat up straighter. "Well, it's about time we turn in."
Harry nodded and stood up. Hermione followed and they both trudged up to their dormitories, both needing sleep.
"Harry!" Hermione giggled as her friend ran ahead of her, pulling her hand. "Harry, slow down!"
Harry slowed his sprint to a jog. He grinned at her over her shoulder. "Only for you,"
Hermione grinned back and caught up with him. "Why are you so excited?" She asked, breathing harshly.
"It's a secret." He said, running again.
"Harry!" She screamed, laughing at him. He stopped abruptly to Hermione's surprise. Before she could question him, he picked her up effortlessly and ran down the hallways again.
When Harry had finally set her down, it was in the Quidditch pitch.
"Okay, Harry, we're here. Now what?" She asked.
He grinned and ran behind one of the stands, pulling out his Firebolt.
"No, no, no. I am not flying with you," She said, backing away as he got nearer.
"Aw, come on, 'Mione. We're already here anyway and we both know it's a long way back to the castle." He said, grinning.
She looked unsurely at the stick with bristles at the end. "What if I fall?"
He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. "I won't let anything happen to you," He whispered. He leaned his mouth to her ear, brushing his lips softly against it, breathing against her ear, "I promise."
He pulled back and mounted the broom. "Come on, in front." He instructed, scooting backwards.
She gave him a shaky smile and mounted in front of him. "Hold on tight, okay?" She whimpered.
Harry tightened his around her, brushing her hair to one side, and kissed the back of her neck. "Already am. Don't worry, I'll steer. Just hold on."
Hermione shivered. "It's a bit cold."
Harry slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around Hermione. "Better?" He asked, sweetly.
Hermione nodded. "Let's go."
Harry steadied them and kicked off the ground, receiving a high-pitched scream from Hermione.
"Harry, not so fast!" She yelled as the wind whizzed past them.
Harry laughed and slowed down. "Open your eyes, 'Mione." He whispered, squeezing.
"I'm not looking down." She said in a warning tone.
Harry grinned. "I wasn't asking you to. Just open them and see what you're missing."
She whimpered then obliged. "Oh, Harry." She breathed. The sky was a tad cloudy but you could still see the bright, full moon shining and the millions of stars blinking and twinkling.
"It's beautiful." She whispered.
"Yeah," He murmured, staring at the pretty girl behind in front of him.
He felt different then. He felt worry free and didn't need to find and kill a megalomaniac. He loved Hermione and right then, he felt like he could tell her that.
"Hermione, I have to tell you something," He said, nervously.
"What is it?" She asked in a gentle tone.
Before he could speak, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled and before anything could react, rain started pouring down.
Harry flew back to the castle and stopped in front of the doors.
"Sorry about that. Bad weather." He said, shaking his arms.
"It's okay. Maybe we can tomorrow?" She asked, hopefully.
He grinned. "Definitely."
"I'm bored." Ron said, for the twelfth time that night.
"Just concentrate for once, Ron." Hermione said, turning a page on her book.
He carefully picked up his Potions book and aimed it at the girl sitting across him, who was busily reading her giant Arithmancy book.
"Ron," Harry said, in a warning tone and pushed his arm down.
"She started it." He huffed, defensively.
"How about I go get some apple cider from the kitchens?" Harry asked.
They were all studying in the Gryffindor Common Room that night. They had a Potions test coming up (Arithmancy included for Hermione) and neither Harry nor Ron could concentrate very well.
"Fine. Make mine hot, mate." Ron said, leaning back in his chair.
Harry nodded. "How about you, 'Mione?"
She looked up and smiled. "I'd like mine cold, please." She replied.
Harry grinned and nodded once more. "I'll see you guys in a bit." He left through the portrait hole, leaving the other two Gryffindors in an awkward silence. The only sounds were Hermione's page turning and the cracking of the fire.
"So," Ron said, breaking the silence, making Hermione look up from her book. "Did Harry tell you that thing he was supposed to tell you?"
"Oh, that's right. I forgot about that. No, he didn't tell me. I was hoping he would tell me today. But he didn't."
"What?! That bastard told me he did!" He screeched.
"Don't worry, Ron. Harry will tell me when he feels like he can."
"By the time he does, we'll all be lying in the dirt with headstones scratching our coffins!"
"Ron! Harry has other things to worry about! Like killing the megalomaniac out to destroy the world!" She defended.
"You know what? I'll tell you, he—"
You can't tell her anything, Ron.
"Well?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow.
Ron looked annoyed for moment and Hermione looked at him suspiciously. Then his face turned into a smirk. He said I couldn't tell her anything, but he never said anything about showing her anything, Ron thought, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Ron?" Hermione asked, puzzled by the strange looks her redheaded friend had on his face.
He ignored her question and began scribbling on a piece of parchment. He folded it and tossed it behind the cover of his Potions book. "Well, I'm turning in. G'night, Hermione." He said, hastily packing his things. He dashed upstairs, purposefully having the folded piece of parchment fall out of his book and land on the table.
"Ron!" Hermione yelled, picking up the folded paper. "Ron, you left something!"
But there was no reply. Hermione smiled and shook her head. She picked up the folded bit of paper. It had a huge "READ ME!" in Ron's messy handwriting. And under it said, "yes, you, Hermione."
Hermione laughed to herself and opened it. She read it and laughed, amused at Harry's list. (Yes, Ron still had it.)
At the bottom it had an arrow pointing to the side and beside it read, "Turn to the back." (In Ron's handwriting, of course.)
Hermione turned it and at the back, read in huge letters, was:
"HARRY'S IDEAL GIRL: HERMIONE JANE GRANGER!
(Eat your heart out, Potter. Didn't tell her anything.)"
Hermione's eyes widened. "M-Me?" She squeaked. Was it true? Could she finally have what she wanted? Did Harry really fancy her?
She heard the portrait hole open then Harry's voice. "Sorry I took so long. Who knew there were so many different brands of apple cider?"
He looked at the scene. Hermione was looking down at the floor, her book closed and a piece of parchment lying on the table in front of her.
"Where's Ron?" Harry asked, placing the two mugs down.
"He decided to turn in." Hermione replied, looking up at the confused boy with a small smile on her lips. "Left rather hastily too. He left this piece of parchment on accident."
"Oh? What's it say?" He asked, looking over.
Hermione smirked and handed him the paper. She watched his eyes widen then he turned it to the back only to have his eyes widen even more. (If possible, that is.)
"That bastard." Harry muttered, looking away from Hermione.
She cupped his cheek, making him look at her. "Harry?"
He looked at her, fear and vulnerability evident in his eyes. "Hermione, I—"
"Shh." She silenced him gently, like a mother hushing her child to sleep. "Am I really your 'ideal girl'?"
Harry blushed and nodded. "Look, I understand if you find it awkward or weird—"
Hermione's lips on his silenced him. The kiss was shy and chaste. Harry finally leaned in (after the initial shock) and cupped the back of her neck pulling her closer.
They both pulled away at the same time, smiling.
"Hermione," Harry breathed. "I love you so much and it's taken me so long to realize, but I do. I really do love you."
Hermione grinned. "You're such an idiot." She laughed, burying her face in his neck. "I love you too." He murmured.
A silly smile made its way to Harry's face. "So, does this mean we're—"
"Yes, we're together."
"But what about Voldemort?" Harry got suddenly rigid and nervous.
"I don't care. I'm already in more danger as it is and I think—no, I know you're going to kick that idiot's arse."
Harry gave her a sly smirk. "Why, Ms. Granger, are you actually using such foul words?" He asked, feigning shock.
Hermione pinched his arm. "You must be rubbing off on me, you twat."
"I had no idea you liked rushing into relationships." Harry teased, suggestively.
Hermione blushed and hit his arm several times. "Harry!" She exclaimed.
"Kidding, kidding. Maybe after I kick Voldemort's arse, I can actually do that with you."
Hermione blushed an even deeper shade of red. "You're such an pervert, Harry."
"Well, one day, we will seriously do it, right?" Harry asked, pulling back from their embrace and looking into her cinnamon brown eyes.
"Of course, if this relationship works out."
"Don't say shit like that. This relationship will work out." Harry was confident.
Hermione smiled and didn't even bother to chastise him for his swearing. "I love you."
"I love you too." He whispered.
"Let's go to bed."
"Sweet Merlin, Hermione! Second time tonight already—"
A/N: Please tell me what you think and review!