A/N: Warnings: FLUFF!!!!! If you want gut-wrenching drama or heart-pounding smut you're in the wrong place. Hermione's pov, takes place fourth year and COMPLETELY ignores GoF. Please read and review!!!!!!!!
Doodles
Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch…
My quill scraped fervently across my parchment, doodling tiny blackened snitches across the heading of my transfiguration notes. I continued my meaningless handiwork, scrawling miniscule curly "H's" inside my deflated spheres. They weren't supposed to look deflated, but needless to say I'm a witch, not an artist.
I gazed dreamily at the dark haired boy beside me, writing profusely on his ashen parchment- his disheveled onyx locks falling gracefully into his sparkling emerald eyes. I sighed and turned to my left, only to view a lanky wizard resting his elbow on the table, his cheek mashed in his hand and lids drooped in a stupor. Charming.
I was sitting between my two best friends, Ron on my left and Harry on my right, trapped in another monotonous transfiguration lesson. I had already read this chapter three times, there's only so many indignant properties of snuffboxes! Be that as it may, there I was, trying to set a good example and pay attention when all I wanted to do was write Mrs. Hermione Potter all over my muddled parchment.
Yes, you could say I had a little…crush…on Harry, as it were. Ever since that malodorous starry night at the end of last semester, where we alone saved Sirius Black from sure contemptible death. I remember it well- telling each other our divine and lurid secrets, pouring out our surreptitious feelings sitting inches apart in the quiet forbidden forest, surrounded by a dewy mist and chirping crickets. How utterly romantic! And at the time I didn't even realize it…
Over the summer holidays my thoughts became more and more of Harry. I reveled in the closeness we had shared- the gentle touches and knowing looks, the candid openness of it all. I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed at the sheer simplicity of our relationship and the beauty of that consequential evening. I chided myself for not acting on it. For burying my feelings as I always do. Being logical isn't always easy.
When I finally laid eyes on Harry on that highly-anticipated September 1, he looked even better than I remembered (which I did quite a bit of these past few months). He was taller and slightly broader, his hair still that untidy mess that I grew to adore. Hey, mine wasn't much better, a mane of chestnut curls that frizzed on frequent occasion- heaven forbid we ever have children, we might as well just shave their heads.
I recall seeing him on the platform, jade green orbs darting in all directions until landing on my chocolate brown ones, a smile playing on his lips as he moved in my direction, drawing closer and closer amidst the fervent crowd, striding in slow motion as the sea of harried students bustled all around us. I was simply beaming as he reached to take my hands, my dainty fingers about to coil around his own when-
"Oi! 'mione, Harry!" Ron called as he grabbed me from the side and pulled me into a chokehold, brushing a gangly hand against my buttocks. Harry sported what I thought was a grimace, but it quickly vanished as he clasped hands with Ron, both grinning like idiots. I tried to hide my disappointment by busying myself with my trunk, leaving the boys to talk about things such as Quidditch and girls, a fake smile plastered to my face as I followed in their wake. But I could've sworn Harry threw an apologetic glance behind him…
Wishful thinking I suppose.
The year went on and Harry became engulfed in Quidditch, leaving Ron and I to study…alone in the uneventful common room. I only saw him during mealtimes and classes, but couldn't even go to the loo without Ron breathing down my neck. Honestly, get a life! He was trying so hard to get my attention, and frankly I just didn't want it. I thought I did a year or so ago, but what tried to develop was soon extinguished with 'that night.' You know the one I'm talking about.
So here I am, sitting between the pair, getting the attention I crave from the one I could care less about. Now don't get me wrong, I like Ron and all- he's a very good source of comic relief, but he pushes my buttons like nobody's business- and I prefer not to live in a constant state of anguish.
I turned my attention back to my paper, completely void of notes to my misfortune, and continued to scribble on my parchment, picking up where I left off. Maybe the boys would think I was paying attention, I thought I looked rather convincing, myself. I already know this lesson like the back of my hand, I'm simply too distraught to properly concentrate!
I made sure to cover the crinkled edges with the sleeves of my lengthy robes; I'd die of embarrassment if anyone saw what I was actually writing. Carrying on my handiwork, I scratched a considerably realistic-looking wing when suddenly the warmth of a hand could be felt creeping up my thigh. My left thigh.
"RON, would you STOP!?" I spat fervently, standing up from my chair in the process and looming over the boy like a hawk.
"Miss Granger! Would you ki-"
"Ron was cheating, professor," an avid voice piped up beside me. Harry was standing as well, his hands placed on the desk in a business-like manner as he threw me a pertinent glance.
"Miss Granger, is this true?" McGonagall inquired as Ron's jaw hit the floor and his eyes bugged out at odd angles, frozen like a deer in the headlights. My mouth was slightly open, my eyes widened in bewilderment as I merely nodded my head in agreement.
Why did I do this? I have no idea. You know I'm not one for lying. But Harry had just stood up for me, and I don't think he even knows what happened. Or did he? I pondered this predicament, replaying the events in my mind as McGonagall assessed the situation.
"Weasley! Detention with Filch this evening, I've got a Heads' meeting in the dungeons. You can report to the manure compost behind Hagrid's hut at eight p.m. sharp. Cheating will not be tolerated in my classroom. As for you, Miss Granger, five points from Gryffindor for your prudent outburst. Moving on…" and she whipped back to the chalkboard without so much as a glance behind her, continuing her thorough discussion on matchbooks.
"What the hell?" Ron whispered in bewilderment, his blue eyes bulging out of their sockets as a look of incredulity passed over his flabbergasted features.
I rolled my eyes in annoyance, turning back to my scribbled parchment and noticed Harry was already back to taking careful notes, slowly running his quill over the rigid leaflet, the tip of his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth.
My slender brow raised in perplexity, I ignored Ron's angry huff beside me and slyly peered over Harry's arm, outstretched on the table in hopes of covering his creation. What a hypocrite I am, dying to catch a glimpse of what my partner is stealthily scrawling when I would scold whomever would return the favor. Especially when Ron just got caught 'cheating' of all things. Merlin, help me.
I continued my ardent stare, tilting my chin ever so slightly to view what he was writing, and my big brown eyes nearly popped out of my head. I greedily searched the blackened parchment, not a transfiguration note in sight. Harry was doodling little figure eights, but the tops were oddly flattened. Apparently he wasn't an artist either.
I looked over to see what the genius on my left was up to, his head yet again resting lazily on a propped up fist, eyes glazed over and lids drooping considerably. His face hovered over his transfiguration 'notes,' completely void of anything but a spot of drool in the center, trailing up to his partly open mouth. Touching.
I returned my gaze to Harry's mysterious paper and narrowed my eyes, furrowing my brow and straining my sight in the process. What were those figure-eights? Miniscule "I's"- or were those "T's"?- were scrawled hastily in the centers- what in Merlin's name was this? And then it hit me- those weren't figure-eights, they were hour glasses. He was drawing miniature timeturners with "H's" in the centers.
"Oh!" I squeaked like a mouse, my cheeks burning with a heat that could challenge the sun's. My face was surely a bright shade of scarlet- I'm positive you could fry an egg off my forehead. Ron jerked his head to the right, raising his brow and showing a look of concern.
"Alright, 'mione?"
"Yes, er…hot flash," I countered, not meeting his gaze.
He seemed satisfied with this, nodding his head and scratching the back of his neck, ruffling his red hair all the while. Of course he would be stupid enough to believe that. I'm not forty-eight years old, Ron. Idiot.
I caught Harry's eye, still blushing furiously, and rapidly flitted my eyes between his parchment and mine. He caught on rather quickly and glimpsed at my notes, a broad grin spreading across his handsome face.
The bell rang for dismissal and our trio began gathering our things, Harry and I staring at each other all the while, not daring to look away. We reached the exit at a casual pace, Harry slowly reaching for my arm when-
"So, what the bloody hell was all that abo-"
"Mister Weasley! Where do you think you're going? We need to discuss details about this evening, kindly step back in here, if you would."
Ron exhaled a deep sigh and rolled his eyes, unable to finish his burning question as he retreated back to a stern-looking Professor McGonagall- whose eyes were gazing intently over her thin wired spectacles. Her lips were pursed and her arms akimbo, a tiny foot tapping briskly on the stone-covered floor.
Harry slid his arm around mine, sending a wave of tumultuous butterflies into a harried frenzy within the pit of my stomach. His fingertips brushed the inside of my forearm, tickling my wrist before intertwining his fingers with my own. We walked languidly down the bustling corridor, our hands lightly swaying like a tree in the breeze.
Bliss welled in my heart, nearly bursting its seams as I looked beyond his glinting golden frames to the startling green eyes I fell madly in love with. We continued in silence, our leisurely stroll, and I have never felt happier in my entire fifteen years of existence. We didn't need words, Harry and I- all we had were doodles.
A/N: sappiest thing I've ever written LOL. This was my first H/Hr, I've read nearly ALL that's available but I've never tried my hand at them. This came to me in a dream- weird, right? At any rate, I sincerely hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think!!!!