Riddle me this...

NOTE:

JK ROWLING owns all of the characters in this story.

Just a short little throw-together piece. I was bored people! Excuse me if it's dreadfully plain.

#12 Grimmauld Place…

He had come to a decision and he wasn't going to wait any longer. He wasn't going to chicken out.

He stopped and took a deep breath. A thin strip of light shone from beneath the door.

Good. Awake.

He lifted his hand and placed it on the doorknob, then stood frozen, unmoving.

He was chickening out.

No! Don't!

It was time to take action. He thrust his weight toward the door and hurtled himself in to the room. With a gasp, Hermione sat straight up in bed, clutching a book to her chest.

“Goodness Harry! Is everything alright?”

Recovering his composure, he closed the door behind him.

“Everything's fine,” he paused beside her bed, “mind if I sit down?”

Scooting away from the edge, she patted the bed beside her, “Of course.” Clearing his throat, he turned to sit.

Be bold man!

In mid sit, he changed his mind and instead leapt onto the bed beside her and stretched out on his back. Laughing she asked, “What's gotten into you Mr. Potter? You're not your usual gloomy self today!”

Not knowing how to respond, he simply smiled at her.

“Couldn't sleep?”

I guess not. Too much on my mind,” which was the truth, but Hermione immediately assumed the worst…Voldemort, Sirius.

“Oh Harry! I'm so sorry! I shouldn't ask so many questions.” Not wanting to admit that his mind had been completely consumed with thoughts of her, he ignored her sympathy. He needed to get right down to business. Folding his hands underneath the back of his head, he asked nonchalantly, “So Hermione, do you still talk to Viktor Krum?”

She immediately became engrossed in her book as she replied, rather haughtily, “Why do you ask? What's it matter to you?” Harry knew he hadn't approached the question in the right way.

“Well….” He fumbled, “I was wondering, well, because….there's this girl!”

Nice recovery chump!

“Oh Harry,” she said, putting her book back down, “You came to talk to me about relationships! How wonderful! Who is she?”

On second thought, bad recovery…

“O-Oh…well, I can't tell you that! Come on now Hermione!”

“Okay, I'm sorry. Go on,” she urged.

“Er, where do I start?”

“Is she pretty?” Harry couldn't be sure, but he was sure he heard a hint of resentment in her voice.

Is that good? Does that mean she likes me too?

“Beautiful,” he replied simply.

“And does she know you like her?”

“No.”

“Naturally,” she smirked.

“How can I tell her?”

“Just like you would tell her anything else, Harry.” She paused. Then, “You have talked to her before, haven't you?” The gleam in Hermione's eye was that of an oh-so-familiar bushy haired first-year form so long ago.

“Oh of course! Loads of times!”

“Well, good.” She was quiet for a minute and they lay side-by-side staring at the ceiling together.

“It's not Cho Chang is it?” Although she had tried to force her voice to sound sweet, Harry definitely detected hostility in her tone.

“No. Not Cho.”

“Are you going to make me guess?”

“If you think you're up to it,” he chuckled. Swatting his arm she said, “Oh Harry! You're so frustrating!”

Silence again.

“Parvati?”

“No.”

“Hmm, is she in our year?”

“Of course.”

“Oh this is killing me! Just tell me, please!”

Pausing, Harry decided to take a different approach. “I'll tell you tomorrow morning. I'm feeling a bit tired now. G'night `Mione.” And with that, he slipped from her room leaving her disappointed behind him.

The next morning, Hermione woke to see and envelope resting on the floor just inside her door.

“Oh that Harry! What a boy!” she mumbled, climbing from her bed to retrieve the note. Unfolding the parchment, she found a riddle in Harry's messy handwriting.

“I spend each day

In my favorite place-

Books all around

I relish in the quiet

Absorb the information

Oh that musty smell of books!

I love it!

Was I ever actually

One to criticize

Books and cleverness?

Who am I?”

In complete horror, Hermione had a sudden ghastly revelation. Clapping a hand over her mouth she whispered, “Madam Pince? The school librarian?”

Standing utterly confounded in her night dress, an even more shocking surprise came to her…

“Books, cleverness…there are more important things! Like friendship, bravery, and Harry, just be careful…”

“ME??”

A muffled voice from behind her bedroom door floated through into her room, “You don't mind do you?” Flinging the door open, she leapt into Harry's arms. “Oh Harry! Of course I don't mind!” And with that she showered his face with dozens of little sugary kisses.

Madam Pince? What was I thinking! Clever indeed…

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