Heart-Skipping Beats

Dear Reader,

Well, this two-part (possibly three-part) fic is a random creation of extreme boredom. It's in journal format from Hermione's POV. Also, this begins just after Christmas of 1997, and yes, the trio is living together at Grimmauld Place, as cliché as that's become. I can't think of anything much else to say, other than the next part should be up quite soon depending on reviews and whether or not I procrastinate, etc. I think that's all I have to say. Thank you for reading and thank you, too, if you review.

Sincerely,

Ink.Slinger

Heart-Skipping Beats

& & &

December 26, 1997

Dear Journal,

I don't even know why I'm bothering to write in you. I'm not much of a journal person, you see. I'd much rather spend my time reading a good book by the fire, of course right next to Harry and Ron, both of which usually are playing chess or talking Quidditch.

I suppose you can see exactly why I resort to reading books by the fireside. To hear Harry and Ron have an intelligent conversation is about as rare as actually seeing a Crumple-Horned Snorkack; I think that proves my point, doesn't it? It's rare, so very rare that it's actually never happened…

Mother says that it's good for the soul to jot down one's feelings. I don't see how; I'd much rather have a pensieve. I suppose I'm not too much of the “sentimental” feely kind of woman. The only real reason I'm writing in you is because you were a Christmas present from mum, and I don't want her to think I didn't like my present, even if in all secrecy, I didn't.

She didn't even bother to wrap you. On Christmas morning she simply walked up to me, one of those vague parental smiles on her face, before dropping you in my hands, and explaining to me she had a journal just like you when she was my age. She went on to say that she used to write all of her feelings about dad in it.

I couldn't help thinking it was great and all, but why would I ever need one? Miranda Goshawks latest work would have been a more suitable present for me, wouldn't you say?

Oh, I'm being silly. You're a journal. You're a journal, an inanimate object. You can't possibly answer me. Now, if you were a magical journal then perhaps, but you're not, are you?

No, you're not. I really need to stop asking you questions…

Anywho, moving on from how much of a pointless gift you are, in my opinion, to something more important and worth talking about.

Christmas was lovely. Harry and Ron came over to my home for the very first time and they of course were lounging like kings in our family room in no time. Mum and dad were glad to have the three of us for Christmas dinner.

They haven't seen much of me in the past few years; I know they miss me.

And Harry and Ron, they haven't seen either of them since I think second or third year.

Dad actually wondered if Ron had a bit of giant in him, seeing as he's grown well over a foot more since he last saw him.

Mum's particularly fond of Harry; says he's a good and polite boy - or man, man. I keep forgetting we're not thirteen anymore. We're all of age and out of Hogwarts…

Yes, so I felt sorry for poor Ron. Mum likes him, too, but she couldn't stop boasting about Harry when the two of us were alone later that day. She says he'd make a wonderful husband, whatever that means.

Dinner was wonderful. Mum's cooking has improved since she took those classes a year ago. Before her cooking was so bad you'd have to stick her food in napkins when she wasn't looking. I mastered doing that over the years.

Well, I'm put out. I think I'll call it a night. Tomorrow morning I meet back up with Harry and Ron, and we continue our search. I'm blushing right now, because of what I'm about to write.

It's been only a day since I've seen them, and I can't help but miss them. I nag them to death, but they're great guys…both of them.

Night.

- Hermione

& & &

February 12, 1998

Dear Journal,

I am guilty as charged. I haven't written since the day after Christmas. I'm sorry, really I am. It's just life's been hectic lately.

We've found two Horcruxes so far; Harry destroyed the first, but the Order is still trying to figure out how to obliterate Ravenclaws bracelet. Meanwhile, I'm refusing to even consider the possibility Harry - my Harry - is in fact a Horcrux. I don't even like or want to talk about it.

Valentine's Day is upon us, and well, Ron already told us he's spending the day with Luna. Oh, that's right…you don't know they're dating. Erm, well, they are. I think they kissed under “mistletoe full of nargles”, according to Luna, at the Quibbler's Christmas party, and they've been seeing each other since.

I'm glad they are. Ron and I broke up four months ago after what was a short-lived relationship, but things have been awkward around him since. I mean, we obviously don't have any chemistry no matter how much tension we have at times. Dating Ron for a month made me realize I need someone…different.

How different, I don't know. All I know is different from Ron. Yes, someone different from Ron.

Back to the subject of Valentine's Day. I don't have a clue what Harry's going to be doing. As mean as this sounds, I hope he doesn't go out with anyone.

Only because I don't want to be a loser and stay all alone at Grimmauld on Valentine's Day. Well, I could go with Terry Boot; he asked me out two weeks ago on a date, but I turned him down. I don't know how - or why, for that matter - but I don't see myself with Boot.

He's nice and everything. He's just…not the “different” I'm looking for.

So, long ramble short, I'm dateless and I sure hope Harry will be, too. Wait, perhaps he and Ginny will rekindle what they had last year. He, after all, only broke up with her to “protect” her as he put it.

Well, this is depressing. I just convinced myself Harry will be spending the most romantic day of the year with Ginny. Now I'll be all alone.

Um, not that I have a problem with Harry spending the day with Ginny; other than the said fact I'll be alone, by the way, I have no problem with it. I think they're good together. They both like Quidditch and…they're both quite good-looking and…they both like Quidditch.

Listen to me. I'm babbling on about what Harry's doing for Valentine's Day. It isn't a huge deal; I shouldn't fuss over it…I'm only his best friend. I should be happy for him if Ginny and he get back together. Even if that means I'll be spending the day alone.

Ahem, I think I'm going to end this entry now. It's quite awkward and I'm betting you probably think I'm jealous of Ginny's romance with Harry or something…which is definitely NOT the case.

I just don't want to be alone that's all.

-Hermione

& & &

May 7^th, 1998

Dear Journal,

All right, so once more I am guilty of leaving you collect dust. But you should remember I didn't want you in the first place! Oh, who am I kidding? You're all right. I guess mum was right. Jotting down your feelings from time to time isn't that bad.

Besides, I have a confession to make. Hold your enthusiasm now.

I…I...ugh, I can't even write it down. How pathetic is that? If I can't write it in you how will I ever admit it to myself aloud? Well, I suppose it's best if I don't admit it aloud. Someone might overhear or something of the sort, and then I'll have to runaway and never come back to face this again.

Okay, I'll try once more.

I…I think I've developed a small, and when I say `small' I mean teeny, tiny, miniature, little crush on Harry. Yes, you heard correctly. Harry. The same Harry I've known since I was eleven.

I don't know what's gotten over me, really. I had an odd dream one night a few days ago, and of course it had to do with Harry. He was like this sort of “match-maker” or something, and he kept setting me up with different guys, like Ron and Viktor and even Cormac McLaggen. It was annoying and on McLaggen's forceful self, disgusting really.

But then towards the end I had this epiphany, and obviously it was about Harry. It was strange, because I woke the next morning and I couldn't stop thinking about him. I swear it was the strangest thing.

It was a murky, rainy day in late April, and though it was raining I felt like it was the brightest, sunniest, happiest day of my life. Oh, how sappy does that sound?

Very much so, yet it's so very true. I woke and I realized…I like - no let me be honest to myself here - I love the man.

I'm horrible…completely horrible, because now I'm nervous and my palms go sweaty around him. I can't help feeling tremendously guilty for having such non-platonic feelings for him. But they're there. They're definitely there.

I shouldn't be thinking about him like this…in a more-than-friends way, but I can't help it.

What's honestly not to love? Face it, the git really is “more fanciable than ever”, as I put it in sixth year.

He's handsome, he's kindhearted, he's a gentleman, he's intelligent, he's brave, he's athletic, he's funny, too, and so on. I could really go on for quite a while. But I'm embarrassing myself and sounding utterly pathetic already, so I won't.

It's just…ugh…look at me, I can't even write correctly when I think of him. I go completely incoherent.

But I know I need to stop. I must stop. I can't love him, who am I kidding?

I'm merely his brainy best female friend and nothing more. Our relationship must stay completely non-sexual on both parts. So far Harry has held up his end of the deal, but me? NO. And I have to go back to how things have always been.

I'm betting Harry has never - not once - looked at me as a girl girl, as Ron puts it. I'm willing to bet a Galleon he hasn't. And why? Because…I suppose because I'm not Ginny Weasley OR Cho Chang.

Let's face it…they're both stunningly pretty, “cool”, and they both love Quidditch.

When you compare brainy ole me to them, it isn't a wonder why he hasn't ever thought of me, Hermione J. Granger, as more even if we live and sleep in the same house.

I should end this. I sound miserable and pitiable, and the fact that I'm swooning desperately over a man has got me shocked. Sure I fancied Viktor a bit, and of course I fancied Ron even more than that, but I've never…loved a man before. And it's scaring me to think I really do believe I'm in love with Harry Potter, my best friend.

I'm going now. I have to clean myself up. You do know I'm tearing up as I write this? I'm horrible with this “love” stuff…with all the butterflies in the stomach and the awkward stutters and sweaty palms, and heart-skipping beats.

Yes, that can't be healthy.

-Hermione

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