Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Yay! Glad you liked the twist, and I hope you enjoy this installment! Also, this story is still AU…basically, disregard HBP, and Draco is nice. So that means Dumbledore's still alive, and there's no such thing as a Horcrux. Capisce? OK, now on with the story…

Breakfast the next day was a quiet affair: Harry and Hermione were plotting their strategies, and Ron, as usual, was blissfully ignorant and stuffing his mouth with kippers, toast, and sausage. The rest of the 7th year Gryffindors were not worried about the situation, figuring that Hermione was (as usual) worrying about her NEWTs and Head Girl duties, and Harry about Gryffindor's chance in the Quidditch Cup (this year he was team captain). So it was understandable when the entire table bristled in defense of the Trio at the approach of the Headboy.

"Potty, Weasel, Grunger," drawled a certain platinum blonde Slytherin. "How's it going?" Without pausing for an answer, he continued. "Grunger, McGonagall said that we have to talk to Peeves, who's been tricking First Years. He's charmed an invisible wall into the middle of one of the corridors, and the little twerps keep walking into it."

Hermione smiled and replied, "Sure, Draco," over the loud snickers of Harry and Ron. Draco smiled back, and offered his arm to the Head Girl, which she gratefully took. Draco had been on relatively good terms with the Trio since the demise of Voldemort in their 6th year, which he demonstrated by calling Hermione, "Grunger," instead of the insulting "Mudblood." But he still had his pride, and therefore took the same, rather sadistic, pleasure in distorting Harry and Ron's names. Hermione excused herself, and Harry glared slightly at Malfoy's smug look.

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"Draco, I have to tell you something," Hermione said as soon as they left the Great Hall.

"What is it, Granger? For the last time, no, I'm not going to shag you again. Last time was bloody awful," Draco smirked. Hermione laughed and swatted him on the back of his head.

"No, you prat. It's about - it's about - about…" Hermione stuttered. "Um, it's about Harry."

"About time you spat that out. Do you realize you said the word 'about' four times in that sentence?" He laughed when Hermione swatted him and called him a prat again. "But anyway, what about Potter? Did he do something to hurt you?" He whirled on her, grabbing her upper arms.

"No, Draco. Harry wouldn't hurt me. It's just that, last night I had this dream…" and she proceeded to describe her vivid reverie. "And then I realized that it was a manifestation - too big of a word for you, Draco? It means 'showing something,' or 'sign' - and in this case, my dream demonstrated my feelings for Harry. My feelings of…of love for Harry."

Draco was a little taken aback at the depth of Hermione's feelings, but took it in without disrupting his suave demeanor. He had, in fact, been expecting something like this to happen soon. Now that Voldemort was gone, both Harry and Hermione would be able to focus on their own lives, and perhaps recognize the feelings that most others at Hogwarts had already realized and accepted. Everybody knew that the black-haired, green-eyed Gryffindor Quidditch Captain's heart belonged to the brown-eyed, bushy-haired Head Girl, and vice versa. It was only a wonder that it had taken them so long to realize their feelings for each other.

"So what do you want me to do about it, Hermione? Do you want me to woo him for you?"

"No, you dolt. I want you to help me decide what to do. Do I just tell him? Or do I not tell him, and forget about my feelings? Or what?"

"Granger, you really are hopeless," Draco sighed. "You should tell him, but don't just clobber him over the head with it…you have to be more subtle. But not too subtle. Potter's a bit too thick to comprehend little hints."

"Wow, thanks, Draco. That really clears things up. Now I know exactly what to do," said Hermione, her voice dripping sarcasm. Now it was Draco's turn to swat her on the head, to which she responded by calling him a prat (again).

"Just hear me out, Hermione. I have an idea - don't laugh or tell anyone else, or I swear I'll hex you - but I have an idea that I got from the Muggle book series 'The Princess Diaries.' Granger, I'm warning you! Don't laugh! But anyway, in the third book - yes, I did read more than one teenage girl romance novel, it was research for Muggle Studies, OK? - Mia wins Michael over by writing anonymous love notes to him." Hermione, who was still doubled over with laughter and had tears of mirth streaming down her face, managed to choke out,

"So how, exactly, does that help me? You told me that I couldn't be too subtle, or Harry wouldn't catch on."

"Fuck, Granger," Draco swore. "How did you ever get to be the top witch in our year? The purpose of these notes is to get Harry used to the fact that somebody is in love with him, and then you come along. And you drop your bomb. And that bomb would be the fact that you are the one sending the letters."

"Ahhh," Hermione breathed, seeing the obvious brilliance of the plan. "So I get Harry acclimated to the idea, and then I hit him over the head…only, it won't hurt that much, because he'll already know that somebody's in love with him. The only surprise will be the fact that it's me, his best friend." And Hermione was off in a world of her own, planning the fine details and composing love poems.

Draco chuckled to himself and walked back into the Hall, forgetting about their original "Heads job:" the thing hadn't existed in the first place, it was only a ploy to get Hermione away from her two thick friends when it was obvious she needed to talk to somebody about what was on her mind.

"Thank God I'm such a thoughtful, observant man," Draco thought to himself as he grabbed his bag and took one last swig of pumpkin juice before leaving for his first class.

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As Hermione and Malfoy were outside talking, Harry had mulled over his own plans. He knew that he didn't want to be sudden, because after all, how could he be sure that his best friend (operative word being friend) would return his love? What he really needed was someone to help him.

"Something on your mind, mate?" Ron said, finally having finished snarfing down his breakfast and taking notice of his friend's contemplative silence.

"I was just…thinking about someone." Ron nodded knowingly. He wasn't that oblivious that he hadn't noticed the obvious attraction between his two friends. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the two accepted it themselves.

"Hermione, eh?" Harry almost choked on his pumpkin juice at this. "Finally realized you love her, huh? 'S about bloody time."

Harry sighed, grudgingly accepting the fact that he had been blinder even than Ron.

"But I don't know what to do, Ron! I think I'm just going to let alone, and hope that the feelings go away. Certainly nothing I can do will make her love me as more than a friend.

"He's going to need my help," Ron thought to himself. And he knew just the person…

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The next day at breakfast, Hedwig brought Harry a small red card that read,

Harry and Hermione both turned red; Harry from the fear that this admirer would get in the way of he and Hermione, and Hermione from embarrassment at how stupid her poem sounded when read aloud. Ron had paled because he was nervous that somebody else had gotten to Harry before Hermione.

From a few tables away, a certain Slytherin looked on. He knew that he would have to lend another hand (or at the rate this was going, a whole arm) to this situation if it were to get anywhere.

A/N: Well, that was my first in-Hogwarts chapter (ever!) and I hope it was believable. This chapter might be a little rushed, but I'm tired and I want to go to bed…please review, and hopefully I'll get the next chapter up soon! And yes, I did actually borrow the love notes idea from the Princess Diaries series (good books, and much better than the movies), and I thought it would be funny to throw that in there. Thanks for reading!

Love, Kaye