Hermione, Her-my-oh-knee, Hermione Granger

chic_geek

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 05/08/2004
Last Updated: 05/08/2004
Status: completed

Harry Potter is a love-sick git in his own words. To the author, he is a neurotic love-sick git-- and Hermione Granger, well, let Hermione Granger think what she wishes to think!

Chapters

1. Hermione, Her-my-oh-knee, Hermione Granger

1. Hermione, Her-my-oh-knee, Hermione Granger

Hermione, Her-my-oh-knee, Hermione Granger.
By Chic_Geek a.k.a Plucky_star (fanfiction.net)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. The incomparable J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter universe.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is really out of character. But I do hope that you enjoy the story. This was previously posted at fanfiction.net. Anyway, just think of this as a sort of "intermission" as I write the "Hogwarts Chronicles of Neville Longbottom". Also, I was not able to edit this probably, so the grammar might be really atrocious. Lastly, I would really appreciate if if you could review this story! Thanks!

Hermione Granger

She’s right beside me, twitching in her seat, hurriedly writing notes, as Professor Binns drones on and on about the politics behind the formation of the knights of the round table.

“Contrary to popular belief, there was indeed corruption behind the formation of the knights of the round table; Merlin knew all about this, but had no say—“

From writing fifty thousand words per minute, out of nowhere she raises her hand. And as expected, Professor Binns doesn't notice. So she calls out,

“Professor Binns”

Bloody Professor Binns. Boring, deaf and dead. He doesn't even hear his name being called. He just continues on and on about King Arthur being pressured by both parties to accept a certain knight.

“Professor Binns,” she calls out again in a louder tone.

“Lancelot, on the other hand marked the start of the regime’s downfall--”

“PROFESSOR BINNS!” I finally shout. I hear her give an “eep!” while the student behind us snickers. She is staring at me. And so does Professor Binns. That caught your attention, didn’t it you bloody son—

“Mr. Popper?”

“Potter, sir.”

“And why do you think it is appropriate to shout out my name when I’m in the middle of a lecture?” Amazing, bloody amazing really. I never knew that ghosts could let off steam. His face was now only a few inches away from mine, and for a second, I wish that it is Moaning Myrtle who is in front of me instead. But before he can continue with his little interrogation, she cuts in,

“Er, Professor Binns, I have a question.”

Binns gives me one last lingering look, as if trying to remember my face since he can't bloody remember my name, then turns to,

“Ms. Gunther?”

“Granger, Professor.”

“Pardon me?”

“It’s Granger, Professor Binns. My name’s Hermione Granger.”

Hermione

She’s reading Hogwarts, A History. Surprise, surprise. We’re sitting in the library. Surprise, surprise. Ron’s asleep-- drooling. Surprise, surprise. She’s has her eyebrows in a furrow, lost in thought. Surprise, surprise. She has the end of the quill on her mouth, she’s tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she’s tapping her foot on the floor, she wrinkles her nose, she—

“Harry, why are you staring at me? Is there something on my face?”

Surprise, surprise, the lovesick git that I am is caught once again. I can feel my face burn.

“No, uh, there’s, uh, nothing, uh, on your face,” Nice Potter. How smooth. Really, even Casanova will fall for that. Bloody hell, who am I kidding? She’s staring at me as if I’m one of those disgusting specimens we have in Herbology. She has her eyebrows in a furrow once again (stop staring Potter), her chocolate brown eyes glistening with curiosity (stop staring Potter), her tongue moistening her lips—OH BLOODY HELL POTTER, STOP STARING! I bury my face on my hands, fighting the urge to stare, to wallow in her beauty—damn it, I am pathetic.

“Harry? Are okay?”

“I’m fine,” I mumble. I doubt if she hears it, Ron’s snoring is becoming louder by the second.

“Oh for goodness’ sake Harry, you don’t look good,” she stands up. I can feel my heart beating really, really—SHE’S TOUCHING ME. SHE’S HOLDING MY ARM. I CAN DIE HAPPY. GOOD LUCK WORLD, I LEAVE VOLDEMORT TO YOU!

“I’m sure Madame Pomfrey can help you,”

“Yeah, sure, Hermione.”

Her-my-oh-knee

She’s dragging me down the hallway. Talking non-stop about something, about everything. Frankly, I don’t know what she’s talking about because I’m dying. Any minute now I’m going to have a heart attack. I’m feeling woozy and light-headed. I feel jolts of electricity passing from her soft fingers to my arm. If this is dying, then those tears are for nothing!

She stops. I’m conscious again. We’re not in the hospital wing yet, but she stops.

“Er?” is all that comes out of my mouth. I may be conscious, but I’m still incapable of speaking.

“Harry?” she asks. Harry what? Oh dear Lord, she’s looking at me as if something has just dawned on her. She’s beaming. Glowing. Radiating. Once again, my knees are turning into jelly. Cheesy person that I am, but that is exactly what I’m feeling. She’s... an... angel. Oh dear Lord, I need HELP.

Bloody Hell, what is she doing? She’s looking at me as if she knows something. Oh heavens, she’s smiling. I’m definitely going to experience a cardiac arrest any second now. I think grandfather Evans died from that— DID SHE JUST PUSH ME TO THE WALL???

“Harry?”

OH MY GOD. SHE KNOWS.

She’s smiling, really smiling. Her eyes are twinkling. She’s GIGGLING. And I’m red and burning.

“Correct me if I’m wrong Harry but...”

Breathe, breathe, breathe! She doesn’t know anything. She’s just happy about something. She can’t wait to tell it to you. Just breathe. There you go—OH DEAR LORD, HER FACE IS AN INCH AWAY FROM MINE.
Self-control Potter, self-control is the key to not screw things up! As much as I’d like to “accidentally” press my lips against her, I have to bloody... STOP.... MY.... SELF.

“Harry, is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

“Her—"I can't finish saying her name. I have to grasp for air.

“Yes?”

“My—“

“Go on Harry,”

“Oh—“Oh why oh why oh why is she doing this to me???? She’s teasing me! The vixen, the scarlet woman, the---

“Potter????” Half an inch away from my face! I can’t think anymore.

“Knee.” Her-my-oh-knee. I can't even say her name without emphasizing every syllable. Her-my-oh-knee. OH DEAR GOD, FORGIVE ME!

And with one swift motion we trade places, I push her to the wall and KISS her. SENSELESS.

You are the man, Potter.

“I AM THE MAN” Bloody hell, did I just say that out loud? Apparently I did. Hermione Granger is staring at me, chocolate brown eyes gone, hawk like eyes present.

“Chauvinist!” she mutters under her breath. And—

SLAP!

“That Potter will teach you how to respect women!” But before she can say anything again, before I can be stupid and ruin the moment once again, I press my lips against hers and kiss her like there is no tomorrow.

THE END