Faking a Smile

Harry looks at me, I fake a smile so he won't see
That I want and I'm needing everything that we should be

He looks at me everyday, pleading with me, silently asking what is wrong. I lie. Saying that it is nothing . . . just the latest Charms test. He smiles at me, telling me to take it slow with the schoolwork. I smile back, saying that that'll never happen.

He'll never know the feelings that I have for him. Never. I am good at bottling up my emotions like that, if I do say so myself. The truth if the matter is, I am in love with my best friend. My best friend, The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter.

He is way out of my league; with his Quidditch-toned muscles, his brilliant emerald green eyes, his shocking ebony hair, and his plump lips that I just want to . . .well, you get the point.

But he'll never love me the way I love him. Never. For two reasons. One, because as I said before, he is way out of my league; especially as my best friend. I mean, who falls in love with their best friend? Pathetic people with no lives. Unfortunately, I fall into that category. Me, with my bushy brown hair that always gets in my way, so I constantly have to tuck a strand behind my ear. Me, with my bossy know-it-all attitude and constant nagging of him and Ron to finish their latest assignment. Me, and my stubbornness to not let this stupid crush go, and move on with my life.

I'll bet she's beautiful, that girl he talks about
And she's got everything that I have to live without

Two, and the most important reason of all, he is in love with someone else. I found out a week ago in the break between Potions and dinner. He stopped me in the hall and motioned for me to follow him. I, being the pathetic being that I am, followed him. Against the tide of students we went until we came to an empty corridor, a little ways from the History of Magic classroom.

His eyes were dancing with little flecks of silver in them. Of course I would notice that . . . my pathetic brain and me. But before I could mentally smack myself, his voice broke into my thoughts.

“Hermione, I am in trouble.” He said.

“What did you do? Did you talk back to Flitwick again? I swear, one day you'll—”

“No, not like that . . .”

“Then how so?”

“I just . . . I think I'm in love.” He said. As soon as the last word registered in my mind, my stomach dropped what felt like twenty stories. My heart got stabbed simultaneously, bleeding little tears of red.

I put on the best smile I could muster and said, “How is that trouble? You should feel great.”

“That's the problem . . . I don't know how to feel. As soon as I looked at her in this new light, I thought I'd been hit by a train, I didn't necessarily have time to sort out my feelings.”

“Well you had enough time to register that you loved her.” I pointed out, trying not to sound as cold as I thought that statement should be.

“Well yeah . . . but what should I do about it?” he asked.

“Well, first off you should start to gather your thoughts for a bit, make sure that you really feel this way or if it is just a crush.” Hermione said. He nodded, and made a motion for her to continue, “Then you should go up to her and just plain out ask her on a date. But don't tell her that you love her—if that is what you feel—it'll just scare her off.”

He nodded again, “Is that all?”

“That's all.”

“Thank you so much, `Mione. You're the best.” He kissed me on the forehead and hurried off. Probably skipping the first thing I told him and rushing to ask some gorgeous Ravenclaw to Hogsmede next weekend.

That day I locked myself in my room and cried. Yes, cried. I'm pathetic, remember? I'm supposed to cry . . . its supposed to hurt this bad . . . right?

Harry talks to me, I laugh cause it's so damn funny
That I can't even see anyone when he's with me

Now here I am, in the middle of writing a rather long three-foot essay on the Theory of Potions and Potion Making for Slughorn, all alone. Yep, just me all alone. Wait, no, Ron is here, sitting on his usual armchair and playing Exploding Snap with himself. I am supposed to be in the Heads Common Room right now, but ever since that fateful day one week ago . . . I've take to avoiding Harry as best as I can.

Yeah, that's working marvelously, note my sarcasm. Also, ever since `that day' he has been showing up everywhere. I think it is Merlin's way of torturing me. Having to see his smiling face while I'm all cooped up and miserable. Night and morning were the only real times when I can avoid him.

But here come the torture. I hear the portrait open and lo and behold, there is Harry himself. He is walking in his usual sexy way. Damn . . . why did this have to happen to me? Oh no, he is coming towards me, must concentrate on essay.

I feel his presence staring down at me, his shape forming a shadow on my parchment. “Hey Harry,” I greet him as gingerly as I can.

“Hey, `Mione.”

“What's up?” I ask, still trying to focus on my assignment.

“I'd rather not mention.” He said cheekily.

I laughed at his lame attempt at a joke. He always came up with a new way to make me laugh. Never ceasing to astound me. “Why do you always do that?”

“What?”

“Make me lose interest in my assignment long enough to hear you lame attempt at a joke.” I reply.

“I make you lose interest in you assignments long enough to—hey!” he said.

“Slow tonight.”

“No, actually I'm quite fast. I can demonstrate if you want me too.”

I laugh again, finally looking him in the eye by craning my neck. He is on his game today; his sparkle is there again, within his emerald orbs. “Do you want something?”

“There are many things I want.”

I swivel around in my chair and look at him without the risk of breaking my neck. Only to find him awaiting a snappy reply, I must have been staring at him awhile. “You must be a hard egg to crack.”

“Oh I'm hard all right.”

I roll my eyes as I try to maintain a chuckle. I then realize that Ron had gone up to the boy's dormitory. It made sense as I glanced at the clock and saw that it read eleven-thirty. Harry must have saw me looking at the clock on the wall, “I think its time for us to get to bed.”

“Would you care to be my escort?” I asked cheekily as I gathered my things in the book bag by my desk.

“Gladly.” He said, holding out his hand and bowing.

Again, I giggle and take his hand with my face turned upright and we make towards our dormitory. When we arrive, he kisses my hand goodnight, as always, and we make our way to our separate rooms.

He says he's so in love, he's finally got it right,
I wonder if he knows he's all I think about at night

The day of Hogsmede was quick to come, in my opinion. I was awoken by my stupid alarm clock telling me that it was sixty-four degrees and partly sunny. I mumbled, “I don't care” and slammed my fist on the snooze button. Usually I love Hogsmede, but this trip was the one I told Harry to ask the girl he `loved' too. I scolded myself for the millionth time that week and through the covers off lazily.

I didn't need to meet anyone, not that I usually did anyway, so I dressed casually in some jeans, a tee shirt, and a Quidditch sweater that I `borrowed' from Harry. I made my way down the stairs while pulling my hair into a messy ponytail and bumped into Harry, sending us tumbling down the remaining stairs. Which, thankfully, were only four.

We landed on the carpet with an appropriate `thump'. I had the pleasure of being on top of him. Embarrassed out of my mind, I dared to look him in the eye, to find him smiling at me. I smiled back and we both started to laugh. He then got a mischievous look in his eyes. I know that look. He wouldn't dare.

He did.

He started to tickle me, using his big, soft hands to gently caress my body. If only this was happening under different circumstances. I laughed at that thought, cleverly covered with the laughing that was already emitting from my mouth because of his torturous tickles.

I flipped him over with a strength I didn't know I had, and started to make him endure the torture that he made me. He started to laugh a loud laugh that I had never heard from him before. But I won't let him have the satisfaction. His laughs of torture mixed with my laughs of satisfaction of me torturing him filled the room.

It appeared as if I won until he flipped me over, but didn't tickle me. My wrists were pined to the ground by his firm hands and my legs were immobile by his feet. “Give?” he asked.

“Give.” I reluctantly said. I would have loved to spend the rest of the day like that, just me and him in a fit of giggles and rolling around the common room. But, if my advice actually worked, he'd have a date to get to.

“Come on,” he said as he helped me up and off of the floor, “we need to get some breakfast.”

“Okay.”

He took my hand and led me to the Great Hall were we met up with Ron and Ginny. We talked, barely eating a bite on our plates, except Ron, he was on his third helping of kippers. Throughout the whole meal, Harry didn't mention his date. So, of course, I asked him. “So, anyone special you're taking to Hogsmede, guys?”

“I'm taking Luna.” Ron said nonchalantly. No one said anything, as they'd been dating for the past two months.

“Neville asked me, so I'm going with him.” Ginny said. He statement earned a few curious glances from onlookers and eavesdroppers; we didn't pay any mind, though.

Everyone looked at Harry, completely skipping me because I never had a date. Not that no one asked me, my heart was just always somewhere else, as we have well established.

He didn't answer at first, but he regained his composure when he said, “No one.”

I was shocked. Didn't he ask the girl he `loved' to Hogsmede like I said to do? Did she turn him down? If he didn't ask her . . . why didn't he ask her? I told him it was okay, he got my permission, my blessing. What is happening?

When everyone was making their way to the village, I purposefully walked very close to Harry and asked, “Why didn't you ask her?”
“I couldn't.” he replied, looking straight ahead and avoiding my eye.

“Why?”

“Because I love her too much.”

I left it at that and we continued our walk to Hogsmede, contemplating what he said all the way there. How could he not ask her because he loved her too much? How the bloody hell does that work?

It felt like we'd only been at the village minutes when we were walking back to Hogwarts. Harry and I had spent the whole day together, and I completely forgot why I was trying to avoid him in the first place. Oh yeah . . . I love him too much, and I can't have him.

He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar
The only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star
He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do

That night I looked up at my ceiling and thought about how unfair life was. Cliché, I know. But why do I have this amazing best friend who is everything and more? Why did I have to fall in love with him? And why does he have to love someone else?

Falling asleep that night was like trying to wait for rain in a drought. Useless and disappointing. Morning came when I finally had the power to shut my eyes. But fate is a cruel thing and it made my alarm go off. The temperature today was sixty-eight degrees.

Sunday's are meant to be slow, but I washed and dressed rather quickly in order to get an early breakfast. Again, my attempts to avoid him are futile as he is already in the common room and on the couch reading.

“Morning, `Mione.” He called to me.

“Morning, Harry.”

“You look horrible.” He said when he looked over at me.

“What a way to boost my self-esteem.” I said.

Harry chuckled, “Come on, I'll walk you to breakfast.” I nodded as he took my elbow and guided the both of us out of the room. “So, tough night?”

“I couldn't sleep.” I replied truthfully.

“Any particular reason you couldn't fall asleep?” he asked.

“A lot on my mind.”

“Any of those thoughts include me?” he asked while wiggling his eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes, “You, me, your shirt off . . .”

“I'm listening.”

I laughed while rolling my eyes again. He was really gullible sometimes, “Another time.”

He snapped his finger, “Damn.”

We laughed all the way down to the Great Hall, where we took up our regular seats next to Ron and Ginny and ate another light breakfast.

Harry walks by me, can he tell that I can't breathe?
And there he goes, so perfectly,
The kind of flawless I wish I could be

In the pass time between Ancient Runes and Defense Against the Dark Arts the next day I walked by him. As I had done many times before; each time my breath catches in my throat and I can't breathe until he passes by me. Does he notice? Does he even care? He walks as if he doesn't . . . so he must not know of the effect he has on me.

He walks as if nothing in the world can stop him. With so much poise and grace. I wish I could be like that, not care about the world around me. But I do, and it has been effecting me, in more than one way.

I sat down next to him when I finally arrived in the classroom, trying not to give any signs of our passing in the hallway. I took out my quill and ink, ready to take notes, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked over to see Harry looking at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Any more advice?” he asked.

“Advice? Wha—oh.” Harry nodded, “Well . . . since there are no more Hogsmede trips anytime soon . . . you should just tell her how feel. But tell her that you like her, not love her.” I told him.

“Anything less . . . dramatic?” he asked.

“Umm, how about sending her some flowers.”

“Flowers . . . yeah . . . that sounds about right. What kind of flowers do girls like?”

“It depends on the girl. I prefer lilies, but she might prefer something like carnations or forget-me-nots.”

“Okay, thanks, `Mione.”

“No problem.”

She'd better hold him tight, give him all her love
Look in those beautiful eyes and know she's lucky cause

The next few weeks were torture. He was always asking me what to do next and how to do it nonchalantly. This girl had better be worth it. If she doesn't love him back, it'll break his heart. She better count her lucky stars and call herself lucky to be with a guy like Harry.

When I woke up on a regular Wednesday, I found a beautiful white lily lying beside me on my pillow. I smiled automatically when I saw it. Picking it up and stroking its velvety petals, I noticed a note tied to its green stem. I detached it and read it thoroughly, smiling at every word.

'You are the sun on my skin
You are the air I breath
You are the water I drink
You are my life
I love you, Hermione Granger
-Your secret admirer'

Now a bright shade of pink, I set down the note and smelled the lily one last time before making my way down the stairs. Harry was down there, as usual, and saw me looking very happy. “What's got you looking so happy?” he asked.

“Someone left me a—never mind.” I said, deciding that it was none of his business. If I kept getting surprises like this, I should be over him by next month. Yeah . . . that's going to happen.

“Okay don't tell me, but you better hurry and get dressed or we'll be late for breakfast.” He said.

It was then I realized that I was still in my pajamas, so I ran up the stairs, showered, changed, and ran back down. “Wow, only ten minutes, not bad.” Harry said, glancing at his watch.

I took a bow and followed him out of the common room. We were side by side the whole walk down, occasionally bumping hands. It caused me to blush of course.

He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar
The only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star
He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do

Ever since they arrived, the lilies have been in my mind. Who knew what my favorite flower was? And who is sweet enough to send me a love note? Well . . . at least I'm thinking of this guy and not about Harry. Shit.

As I made my way back to my room, I kept on thinking of whom the possible admirers could be. Harry . . . Yeah right; Ron . . . no, he isn't sensitive enough to give me flowers. But who does that leave? The entire male student body.

The common room was empty, and my homework has been done since just before dinner, so I grabbed a book and made my way over to the couch in front of the fire. As I was finishing up a fairly interesting chapter, I heard the door open and emit someone into the room. He's here.

I chose to ignore him and set my priorities back to my novel, secretly hoping he wouldn't notice me and save me the torture of the butterflies in my stomach. I tried to get over him and focus on the secret admirer thing, but it looks like this admirer must have found someone else to send flowers too. Oh well, back to square one, secretly loving my best friend while he loves some other bimbo. Great.

My prayers weren't answered, as he chose the seat next to me on the couch and started to read over my shoulder. “Can I help you?” I asked.

“Hmm . . . I think so, I was looking for another tip. But as you're busy reading the latest great British novel.”

I put my book down and looked at him, “I don't have any more. I gave you all of the tips and advice you need. Now, you either need to tell her how you feel or give up.”

He looked at me with a strange look in his eyes, “Are you sure?”

I nodded, “Harry, I told you to flirt with her so she gets the idea.”—He nodded—“I told you to give her flowers and a note.” —another nod—“And I told you to write a note to her anonymously so you can get your feelings out and not creep her out.” He just looked me in the eyes, no nod or anything.

It took me a moment to register why the hell he was staring at me with those amazing green eyes. But this time when I looked in them, I saw something different. Not the usual silver specks, but something else. Something I had never seen in his eyes before. Oh. My. God.

“Oh my God.” I said, mirroring my thoughts.

“I'm guessing you get my point, then.” He said.

I nodded my head. All of that fretting, all of that jealousy had been for nothing. I had been jealous of myself. I had doubted myself of loving him enough. Of course I do. But wait, he loved me. He. Loved. Me.

“You love me?”

Harry nodded his head.

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“I didn't want to scare you.” He replied seriously, but I could sense the humor present, so I smiled.

“All of those tips that I gave you . . .”

“Were my way of trying to win you over.” He explained, “Pretty genius, huh?”

“Very.” I said, cracking a smile. After a short pause I asked, “How long?”

“I don't know. I figure that I've always fancied you a bit . . .” —I blushed— “But one day it hit me. I started feeling different around you, nervous, shaky, and just plain weird.” He said, “But I do have one more thing to ask of you.”

I nodded my head, “Sure.”

“Do you have any tips on when to kiss a girl?”

“Well, if you both feel the same way. And you really, really feel strongly for that person—”

He's the time taken up, but there's never enough
And he's all that I need to fall into…

It was bliss. Pure bliss. His lips came slowly upon mine and they were everything I thought they would be. Soft, smooth, and all together amazing. I felt his arm snake around my waist and pull me closer to him. I didn't know what else to do, I'd never kissed a boy like this before. So I did what instinct told me to do, place my hand in his hair and pull him closer than he was.

His lips dragged across mine and soon I found him licking my bottom lip. Oh, God, what do I do? Instinct continued to take over, my mouth opened and in it came. His tongue was immediately seeking out mine. My tongue was quick to help him out and they touched. I flinched.

Oh my God, I flinched. I flinched away from him. I had to keep my cool; I had to try again. So, I found his tongue again and tangled it with mine with more confidence that I knew I had.

Before I knew it, we pulled apart for air, smiling at each other and feeling like complete idiots. “How long?” he asked me.

“Too long.” I replied, “I love you, Harry.”

He smiled, that goofy smile that I love, “I love you, `Mione.”

“You have no idea how long I've waited for you to say that.” I said truthfully.

“I think I have an inkling.”

The next thing I knew his lips were on mine again, and we picked up where we left off. Except, in what I like to call, the `Tickle Position'.

Harry looks at me, I fake a smile so he won't see.

~*~

A/N: The song is Teardrops on My Guitar by Taylor Swift. The song doesn't have a happy ending… but Harry and Hermione deserve one : )

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