October 12
You know that relationship I was talking about earlier? The one that I said was platonic? Well, now I'm certain it's not. 100 percent.
Because the relationship? Yeah, it doesn't exist.
He won't talk to me. Harry James Potter, who is my co-head and shares a private common room with me, whom I've known for seven years, refuses to speak with me. All because of that fight. And I don't understand why.
I have no one to confide in but you. No one. Harry's not speaking to me, so there goes my number one confidante. Ron…well, Ron is Ron. Need I say more? He's just not that sensitive at times. Or rather, empathetic. Yes, empathetic is the word. And he doesn't like to hear about my troubles. Most guys, actually, don't want to hear about the troubles a girl's going through. Harry's one of the few, or rather was, whom I could talk to about almost anything (there are still a few things that I have to save for Ginny, due to the male's inability to be able to handle discussing anything to do with the reproductive system).
Then there's Ginny. Yes, I can talk to Ginny about what I mentioned above, but on this Harry thing? No way. Ginny will just say, "He loves you." Now that helps me.
I don't need someone to tell me that Harry's in love with me, because if he were, he'd be speaking with me right now. What I need is someone to talk to - I love writing in here, I really do, but writing doesn't always help.
Oh joy. Patrols. This should be fun. I always love trying to convey to Harry what I want while he refuses to look at me.
October 12 - After Patrols
I hate this. I absolutely hate this. Not only is it irrational and ridiculous, but also it doesn't make sense. The last time Harry and I refused to talk was in third year, and that was because I caused him to lose his Firebolt for a few days - but we made up immediately.
Our relationship is slowly becoming similar to the one, which exists between Ron and myself. I don't want that. I don't need another friend to bicker with constantly like a brother. I need a friend who I can joke with and rely on. Apparently that friend is gone.
He wouldn't even look at me. Not once through the entire three hours of patrolling. He wouldn't look at the stars with me as we went to the astronomy tower. He didn't even reprimand me for coming down hard on two fifth years snogging in a corridor.
It was as if I didn't exist. I might as well have been wearing his invisibility cloak for all he cared.
I don't know what to do. I want our old relationship back. I need that relationship back. I need Harry.
It's only been one day of silence, yet I miss him as if it's been ten years.
October 13
Still not talking to me. I've made up my mind that this is insane, therefore I will find a way to talk to him and sort this out. I will. I swear it.
In fact, I'll make sure this is done before I even start on my homework.
I'm not letting our friendship slip away.
October 13
So, Harry wasn't around, and I couldn't find him. I found I was growing slowly more and more desperate, and finally I raced over to the sixth year dormitory, grabbed Ginny, who looked extremely surprised and a bit miffed to be pulled out of the middle of a conversation, and dragged her to my room.
I explained everything that had happened between Harry and myself, and Ginny said, as I expected, "I told you he has a thing for you." Then she added something I didn't expect, "And, for that matter, so do you."
"I do not have a thing for Harry!" I exclaimed angrily to a smug Ginny.
"Right," she replied. "So tell me this. If you don't have a thing for Harry, then why is it that you, little miss bookworm, couldn't seem to concentrate on your book at all?"
"What are you talking about?" I asked Ginny, confused. I didn't remember this at all.
Ginny laughed. "Last week. When you were reading a book, while trying to keep an eye on the common room on McGonagall's request. Harry came into the room, and you looked up, never to return your eyes to your book again. For the past two years, you've read at the table in the Great Hall during meals, and Harry would come into the Hall. You'd follow him, almost as if you were in a trance, and then smile widely at him as if you didn't have a care in the world once he was seated. Admit it, Hermione: you're head over heels in love with him."
"I..." I couldn't find the words. I was in shock. My heart was beating so fast and my palms were sweaty. Me? In love with Harry? No, no way. Not possible. Not at all.
Finally, I managed to regain the ability to speak. "You're just trying to set me up with the first guy you see," I retorted.
"No, with the first guy who sees you, Hermione." Ginny stared at me, and my heartbeat increased even more.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked. "Guys see me. It's not as if I'm going around in an invisibility cloak, Gin." Well, except for with Harry, apparently, I thought to myself, but that's different.
"Don't be thick again," Ginny instructed me. "I'm talking about the guy who sees you for you, Hermione; who appreciates who you are; who realizes how special you are. I'm talking about the guy who would do anything for you, and realizes that the sacrifice would be worth it. I'm talking about the guy who really sees who you are Hermione - who sees you as more than a...a neurotic brownnoser, with her head always in a book, who's the top of her class and obsessed with grades." A bit offended by her last sentence, I tried to interrupt, but she wouldn't let me. "The guy who loves your laugh, and loves to laugh with you; who loves to make you laugh and does just that. Who realizes the reason why you love books so much. Who knows that you want nothing more than to curl up on a couch on a snowy day with a book by the fire, scratching Crookshanks behind the ear. That guy is Harry, Hermione, and you bloody well know it." With that, Ginny stood up and left.
My head was spinning, my heart pumping blood like mad. I could feel my heartbeat in my head, and felt as if I wanted to faint. I still to right now.
Me? In love with Harry - my best friend Harry? No. Not me. There is no evidence of this whatsoever.
Well, there will be none once this bloody heart rate goes down and I wash the sweat off my hands.
Anyway, I'm sure I'm just stressed out, and that's why I'm reacting like this. I'll just talk to Harry, and everything will be fine again. It will be. I know it.
October14 - my room
I spoke with him. Finally. It took a while…but I was able to talk to him. And we're finally all right - friendship-wise that is. Here's exactly what happened:
After that exhilarating discussion with Ginny, I ran through our common room and over to his room. I tried to open the door to find that it was locked shut. Closing my eyes in aggravation, I began banging on his door and, as I had in fifth year when Harry locked himself up in Grimmauld Place, said, "Harry, I know you're in there."
There was still no response, so I hammered on the door once more and reiterated what I had said before, and then added, "Harry, we need to talk."
After what seemed like a century, I heard footsteps approach the other side of the door. Finally, with a creak, the door opened and let me see a very annoyed Harry.
For the first time in two days, he said something to me. True, it wasn't exactly in the most pleasant tone, but it was a start. "What do you want?" he growled.
"What do I want?" I stared at him. "What do I want? Are you joking? I want our bloody friendship back, Harry, that's what. Suddenly you can't even look at me anymore simply because we got in a tiny spat?"
I barged through the door, continuing my speech, while Harry just stared at me.
"Harry, this is insane. We're supposed to be best friends! Best friends don't separate simply over a frivolous argument such as the one we had. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Ginny, and Parvati and the rest of the giggly girls club were right about their stupid theory!"
"Right about what?" Harry asked me, his face blank of any emotion.
I felt a breath catch in my throat. After taking a deep breath, I replied, keeping my eyes on his face, "That your feelings for me are more than platonic."
Harry's face still remained blank as he replied, "That is ridiculous Hermione. You know perfectly well that what we have is platonic. Don't let anybody try to make a relationship exist between us out of our friendship."
"So, we're still friends then?" I asked him cautiously, approaching him.
Harry sighed and turned around, running his fingers through his hair. Finally, he returned his gaze to me and replied, "Of course we are. I don't know what came over me," Harry said. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I really am."
"It's okay," I said softly. "I'm sorry for overreacting about the…about the shower thing." I blushed at the memory of it.
"Er, no," said Harry, a bit red himself. "That was totally my fault. I'll quit with these…with these games."
"Well, you don't have to quit all of them," I said, not realizing what I was saying. "Just ones that involve a R rating."
"Right," Harry said with a grin. Then he walked over to me and pulled me into a tight embrace, stunning me. True, we hugged many times before, but having been just in that fight and not talking for a couple of days, I was a bit surprised.
I hugged him back, and realized I thought for a second that I didn't want him to let me go. But I realized I had just been imagining things, as when he did, I felt no regret of no longer being in his arms - not that I didn't like it. Oh, I'm just confusing myself here.
So, I left, and returned to my room and finished up my homework, and now I'm here.
I'm absolutely thrilled now. I have my friend back, although we may still be on shaky grounds (I am crossing my fingers and hoping with all my heart that is not true), and I have evidence for Ginny that Harry does not like me. After all, he said our relationship was simply platonic and people were making something that didn't exist out of our relationship. I can't wait until I can rub that in her face.
Yet, at the same time, what he said feels like a knife has been plunged through my heart and twisted multiple times, and I just can't figure out why.
I know it's not love. It's certainly not love. At least, not anything other than platonic love. I mean, there's nothing wrong with a girl noticing that her best friend is nice looking - or, rather, drop dead gorgeous. And there's nothing unusual with following his fingers as he runs them through his thick and messy black hair, and wish for a few seconds that you were his fingers. And there's -
Oh. My. God.
They're right. They're all right. I can't believe this. Ginny's right. Parvati's right. Lavender's right. The Giggly Girls Club is right.
They're all bloody right!
For the first time in my life, I, Hermione Jane Granger, am wrong.
I am in love with him! I am in love with Harry!
Damnit. I seem to realize things at the wrong time, don't I? Great move, Granger, great move. Fall for him just after he says he views your relationship as strictly platonic. And my god, looking at his face, it was clear he thought just that.
Why does my life always seem to get messed up like this?
Okay. I will not angst. I will not angst. I will not angst. I will not angst. I will not angst. I will not angst. I will not angst. I will not angst.
I will not think about how I feel knowing that we'll never be together. I will not think about how I'll feel when he gets a girlfriend, which he inevitably will. I will not think about how horrid I will feel the day of his wedding.
Nope, I won't think of any of that.
But, just in case, I think I'll run down to the kitchens and start a revolt, a petition, a strike - anything; anything to get my mind off Harry.
In case that doesn't work, I will fall back on Plan B, which involves blaming Ginny Weasley and setting her head on fire for introducing me to these feelings.
And, you know, killing every girl that comes within a 10-mile radius of Harry.
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