Irritating, Blank Pages

I sat, notebook in front of me, on one of the huge, overstuffed chairs by the Gryffindor fireplace, basking in its warmth. I stared at the blank pages in front of me. My mother had gotten the book for me over the summer after I'd told her of the events of my fifth year. I didn't, and still don't, know what she expected me to write in it. I'd never been the type to keep a diary and wasn't creative enough to write poems. The notebook's point escaped me.

Sighing, I looked up at the fire. I pulled my legs into the chair and snuggled down deeply into its cushions. I loved being warm. The waves of heat coming out of the giant fireplace were heavenly. Winter was my favorite season. It gave you an excuse to burrow under big, fluffy comforters, drink hot chocolate, and sit in front of fires.

I tore my eyes away from the fire and looked around the common room. There was still a fair amount of people around, but the room was emptying quickly. A few feet away Harry and Ron were deeply involved in a game of wizard's chess. Harry had improved quite a bit and was actually giving Ron a challenge. Each boy took several minutes to think about his move. I watched as Ron studied the board. He chewed on his lip absently.

Then, his eyes lit up. He tried to hide his joy at finding his opportunity. He didn't move immediately; he had to check for any possible repercussions. Then, as calmly as he could, he made his move.

His attention was free now; it would be several minutes before Harry could react. He ruffled his hair and looked around the room. His expression registered shock when he realized how late it was. His eyes fell on me. He grinned lopsidedly when he saw that I was watching him. I had to resist the urge to look away. If I did, my staring would become suspicious.

I smiled back, fighting back the light blush I could feel rising in my cheeks. After a few moments I looked away, satisfied it wouldn't look odd.

I focused on my notebook with renewed determination. What could I write? 'Ok, Hermione,' I thought to myself. 'Think about your day.' Hmmm...

I woke up early and went to the Library to grab some books I'd been wanting and came back into the common room in time to see a sleepy Ron trudge down the stairs behind Harry. His hair was still mussed from sleep and he had lines from his pillow on his forehead.

He rubbed his eyes and looked down at me. He grinned and his lovely blue eyes sparkled. I smiled back up at him. After eating breakfast in the kitchens, (Those poor house elves fell all over themselves as soon as we walked through the door-er- portrait. If only they knew what they were missing...) we went down to visit Hagrid.

Hagrid enthusiastically spoke of the new creatures he was hoping to get a hold of. They were harmless, he claimed, as long as you didn't smell like food. I giggled silently at Ron's initial reaction. His eyes widened, showing his shock and fear. Ron always smelt of food.

I then laughed freely as Harry imitated Crabbe being attacked by the monsters. Crabbe was always eating-he was worse than Ron was!

I was leading Ron and Harry back up to the castle when something large, cold, and wet hit my back and splattered. I spun around to see Harry running for cover and Ron looking fearful.

I quickly bent down to scoop up a handful of snow, grinning evilly. Boy, was he going to get it.

I stood and looked around for Harry. Spotting his shoe sticking out from behind a bush, I began to sneak in his direction to get better aim. But before I'd even aimed my throw, another big, wet glob of snow struck me, this one on my side. I turned to see Ron grinning, his cheeks pink from the cold and his hair still ruffled.

I re-aimed my throw in his direction. My snowball hit him square in the chest.

When he bent to pick up snow, I ran for cover. Snowballs landed at my feet as I sprinted for the closest tree.

I, as quickly as possible, molded the snow into four huge spheres. I pulled off my gloves and reached into my cloak for my wand. I started the spell, "Mobula—" but before I could finish, heaps of snow landed on my head. I shook it off, smiling to myself and noting the mad footsteps away from the tree.

Pointing at two of the snowballs, I muttered "MobulaHarryPotter." They zoomed off. I pointed at the others and said, "MobulaRonaldWeasley." They too zoomed off. I stepped out from behind the tree to see the spell go into action.

The giant clumps of snow would hit their target, splattering all over him. Seconds later, it would retract, reform, and splatter again. With two snowballs on each boy, they were constantly being hit.

It didn't take long for the boys to surrender. I removed the charm and we traipsed up to the castle.

We split up briefly as we went to change out of our snow-soaked clothes. I went into my room and pulled on my favorite pants: warm, black, velvet ones I've had forever. I reached for one of my sweaters when I saw something—a maroon Weasley sweater. Vaguely wondering how it'd come to be in my closet, I smiled and pulled it on.

It was much too big, the sleeves came well over my hands, but it was warm and smelled like Ron.

I pulled my hands out of the too-long sleeves and turned to my mirror. The maroon sweater made me look tiny, but the color gave my plain brown eyes a nice sparkle. I pulled the sweater to my face and inhaled deeply. I couldn't get enough of that smell.

I reached for a hairbrush, intending to attempt to calm my hair, but realized it would be a losing battle. After smelling the sweater one last time, I turned and left my dormitory.

Ron was downstairs already but Harry wasn't there yet. Ron heard me coming down the stairs. He turned and smiled, his eyes taking in my clothes. Oops. Maybe he didn't want me to wear his sweater. I blushed lightly and looked away from his face.

"You—um—you're wearing my sweater?" he asked.

"Um...yeah, I found it in my closet. I can change if you want me to."

"No!" he said quickly. "Er...I mean, no it looks...you look nice." He smiled softly and I grinned back.

Someone cleared their throat. We turned to see Harry standing on the boys' staircases. He raised an eyebrow and asked, "You guys ready for lunch?"

"Yeah, I'm starving! Wonder what we're having. I didn't like that stuff they had yesterday..."

After lunch, they'd started their game and I'd gotten my notebook. They played for hours, up until Ron's growling stomach became so loud they couldn't concentrate.

We went down to dinner, me with a still blank notebook in hand. During dinner, many people approached the table to wish Harry a "Happy Christmas." One blushing Hufflepuff even came up to Ron and squeaked something, though I couldn't understand what she said. She ran away as quickly as she'd come, leaving the three of us aghast.

When we came back up to the tower, they went back to the game and I grabbed a chair as close to the fire as I could. I watched their game for a while. Ron's eyes lit up every time something went his way and he chewed on his lip when he was concentrating. I wondered if anyone else noticed. Well, certainly that Hufflepuff did.

Why did I notice these things? I mean, it's not as if I like Ron or anything. He's my best friend, I'm supposed to know things about him. Right? Like the way he shoves chocolate frogs whole into his mouth before studying the card. Or the way he drops whatever he's carrying—a cloak, books, anything—as soon as he gets in a room.

But everyone knows stuff like that about their friends. Or they should.

Right?

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe—

My notebook was suddenly snatched away. I whirled around to face—Ron. My breath caught.

'Lord, here we go.' I thought.

"Ron! Give that back!" But Ron was flipping through the pages, back to the beginning. He walked over to one of the red couches and flopped down on one end. He started reading.

Finally, realizing I could move, I slowly followed. He'd already started, there was no use taking the book back now. I walked over and sat on the other end of the couch. I grabbed a pillow and hugged it to my chest. I smelled the sleeves of my shirt.

My world was frozen. I vaguely realized the common room was empty. Even Harry was gone.

And Ron read. I watched his eyes move as he did. Why was he such a slow reader? I mean, here I was, my world crashing upon me, and he was taking his own sweet time.

He looked up at me, smiling, but I couldn't smile back. He read on, and I wondered what part he was reading.

'Ok,' my reasonable side came out. 'I didn't write anything too bad. Just the end...and the smell thing...Lord. He'd hate me. Well, no, he wouldn't. But he'd never be the same around me.'

I stood and started to slink away, hoping he wouldn't notice. I was almost to the stairs when I heard the book shut. Crap.

He cleared his throat. "Hermione?"

I stopped, sighed, and turned. I walked back and stood near him, but didn't look up.

"Hermione, 'maybe' what?"

"Maybe," I said softly, looking at my feet. "Maybe I love you."

He gently lifted my chin. I closed my eyes, still refusing to look at him. I thought he was holding back laughter.

I thought that until he kissed me.

It only lasted a few seconds. When he pulled back, I looked up at him. He looked serious, and his eyes were twinkling.

"I love you too, Hermione."

"Really?" I grinned uncertainly.

"Hermione, you may be brilliant, but you can be bloody stupid sometimes."

I giggled and hugged him tightly. His wonderful smell surrounded me, and I sent my mom a silent thank you for that irritating notebook.

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A/n: Eh, I'm not thrilled with the title, so if anyone has any suggestions... Hermione may seem OOC, but if anyone's been in a similar situation, you tend to get dramatic. Thanks a bunch to Hannah (The Palindrome) for betaing. You rock! Anyway, Please review! xD