He Loves Me Not
I sat with my best friend, Savior-of-the-Wizarding-World, Harry Potter on the couch in his flat one uneventful January day. Harry had spent the last four years enjoying the childhood he'd never gotten. As such, we were enjoying ourselves in such a way as only a girl best friend and boy best friend can do. That is: he was playing video games and I was watching him with amusement. It was a good thing I loved him or I'd have been bored long ago, I mused.
Usually Ron would have joined us by now, but he was on a date with Luna Lovegood. Harry was, quite obviously, anxious for competition, because he asked, "Are you sure you don't want to play, Hermione?"
I rolled my eyes at him, assuring him for the umpteenth time that I was fine and didn't play video games. Harry sighed and went back to his video games.
I got chilled and pulled a soft red blanket across my lap, tucking my feet underneath me. My fingers found the fringe at the end of the blanket and mindlessly I began braiding. I finished one braid. He loves me. I finished a second braid. He loves me not. And so I went, around the edge of the blanket while Harry was video-snowboarding.
I had reached the third side by the time Harry looked up again, "Bored?"
"No. I will never be bored sitting with you watching you play video games." We fell silent and time stretched towards midnight.
He loves me not. I folded the blanket, having braided every tassel. "Well, good night, Harry. I'm off; work in the morning, you know how it is."
Harry nodded, paused the game, and stood for the customary good-bye hug. I hugged him tightly, then pulled on my jacket. Harry walked me to the door, and I was about to step through the door but he grabbed my wrist, tugged me back, and kissed me. He kissed me!
I apparated home in a daze. He loves me not, indeed!