I looked forward to this time of the day.

Now usually it was for the food, but nowadays that had changed.

I waited anxiously for the moment when she would come waltzing in to the Great Hall, with her bag of books slung over her shoulder, a frantic look on her face. I thought she was beautiful when she was in a hurry. Hermione always seemed to be in a hurry.

Even during breakfast, when we were meant to relax.

Harry and I exchanged glances as our muttering friend sat herself down and daintily picked up a blueberry bagel.

"How goes it, Hermione?" I asked casually. She muttered something incoherent back to me, and I tried desperately to pretend I had not felt the pain in my chest at her curtness.

I hoped Harry didn't notice anything. It was a miracle he didn't see the way my face fell. I certainly felt it.

Hermione opened a book and hid her face from us, still mumbling, probably trying to memorize a whole dozen pages for an exam later that day.

It was a shame that just one interaction with her like that could ruin breakfast for someone like me.

For the first time in a very long time, I did not feel hungry at all.

Sorry this one is sadder, but I wanted to touch on the pain of liking someone who doesn't always acknowledge you back. I will write a happier drabble for the next one. J