I peak as carefully as I can over my Transfiguration book, trying hard not
to draw attention to myself. She is at the table across the room, her back
to the windows. If she looked up, she would undoubtedly see what I am
doing, as I never do a very good job of hiding it. As it is, she is
hunched over some book or another, glancing from book to parchment as her
quill moves tirelessly to record whatever new discovery she's just found.
I've been doing this for a while now, a few months at least. Every night is almost always the same. Harry and I come in from quidditch practice (which is usually pretty grueling under the surprisingly fierce Katie Bell). We take our brooms up to our room and grab our books. I always make an excuse to face her, and Harry and I attempt homework for a while until Harry decides to write in his journal, something he's been doing a lot of since school started back this year. He doesn't talk as much in the evenings anymore, and I get that. He's got a lot on his mind, with Sirius' death and the prophesy always in the forefront of his thoughts. There's something new in the Prophet everyday, about a Death Eater attack or a Voldemort sighting (Yeah, I say the name now. If I've got to be around to fight him – which I will regardless of what tactics Harry tries to use to get me out of the way – then I should at least call him by his name). There are times when he just stares into the fire. He has a look of loss on his face, and it's almost as if he stares at that fire long enough, Sirius' head will pop up and everything will be ok. But we all know that right now, everything's not ok, and it won't be for a good long while.
These are the times I work out some way to look at her. At first, I thought I was doing it because everything's changing so fast that the familiar image of her constant study is almost comforting. It just feels right that no matter what, she would still find her way to a corner to pour over her work, throw herself into it. It's what I've seen her do since first year. It almost makes things feel normal, even if it's just for a second.
After a while, though, I noticed that it wasn't exactly like first year after all. Or maybe it is, and these are just things I never saw before. When she figures something out, she smiles in a way that I rarely see from her under other circumstances. It's a genuine smile, irrepressible and golden. That's just like her; the world is falling down everywhere, but she's irrepressible. It's amazing. Then there're her eyes. They squint and crinkle when she's trying to understand something new. When she's having a rough go of it, her eyes almost light like a blazing fire, almost like she's trying to burn the book with her eyes, dominate it. I realized a few days ago, when she seemed to be working on something especially difficult, that I've seen that look from her a number of times before, usually when we're fighting. I was momentarily phased and a little angry that she thinks of me that way, as some problem she wants to dominate. And then I smiled to myself, because I suddenly realized that I've been the one problem that her legendary mind hasn't been able to solve.
Harry knows what I do. He figured it out one night, when I was staring for a longer stretch than usual. I heard him laugh that night, one of his sincere, out loud laughs. It was the first time I'd heard him do that in months, so I automatically turned to him to see what had finally made him laugh. He was smiling, really smiling, and laughing so hard I thought he was going to fall off of the couch. I started to laugh too, because he just looked so damn funny.
"What are you on about?" I asked, trying to contain my own amusement and my joy that Harry was finally smiling.
Harry let out a few more laughs before he got himself under control. He looked like he was about to tell me what was so funny, but by that time, she had walked over to see what was going on.
He looked at me, and then at her, and then burst out laughing again.
"He's gone off his rocker," I said.
She and I looked at one another, clueless but smiling, and she wordlessly went back to her studying.
Harry calmed down a bit, and we all settled back into what we had been doing before. Harry was writing, she was studying, and I was staring.
I heard Harry snicker again, and decided that this time, I had to know what he thought was so funny.
"Ok, come on Harry, what's got you laughing? What kind of person doesn't share a good joke with his best mate?"
Harry grinned and put on his "you're so busted" face. "The kind that doesn't want his best mate to know that he's laughing at him," he answered.
"What are you talking about?" I said, probably far too defensively, since I already knew the answer.
Harry looked at her, then back at me and replied with a very pointed "Nothing," which was followed by a cough that mysteriously sounded like "About bloody well time."
I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, and I smiled at him because I couldn't help it. Well, it was better that he knew anyway.
Since then, I haven't had to make up an excuse to face her. Harry makes sure that I can always face her while we're "working" on homework. The whole thing is a chance to watch me make a prat out of myself, anyway, so naturally, he promotes it as much as possible. We talk about it a little, because I don't know what to do about her. He seems to think she feels the same way, but I can't believe that's true.
Tonight has been an especially good night, as I don't have loads of homework for once, so I have more time to stare than usual. She's working tirelessly, of course, writing an extra essay or something like that. It seems to be particularly challenging; she's had that fiery look for well over an hour now, and she's starting to look a little murderous. She sighs, tossing her quill aside. I try to look away before she catches me, but tonight, I don't make it in time.
Our gazes lock, and for a second, her burning eyes fall on me. I know how hard the evening has been for her, more than she knows, so I muster my best smile and throw it her way.
For a moment longer, her eyes are still on fire, but then, very quickly, the fire changes to something calmer. Her entire face changes, and she has her patent smile of discovery, this time bigger than ever. We look at one another for a moment longer before she picks her quill back up and goes back after the problem she left a moment ago, this time fiercer than ever.
It takes a second to realize what just happened. What could have brought on that smile of discovery? Was it that she finally understood the problem she was working on? As I resume my observation, I see that the fire is back in her eyes, the problem still going without an answer. It is not until now that it finally hits me: She discovered the answer to another problem in that moment, one that has been nagging at her for ages with no result. Hermione Granger finally figured me out.
I'm taken aback a little bit, confused, not knowing if this is good or not, or what she's going to do with that answer she just found, or what that answer actually is. I consider calling it a night, but before I do, I decide I want to look at her one last time, see if I can figure anything out for myself.
When I look back up at her, I find that she's already looking up at me. She smiles, but this time it's in a new kind of way, one that's not about discovering something. I don't know what it means, but I find that I kind of like it.
As I gather my things, she's already stooped back over her books. I know that tomorrow will come, and there could be a lot of things that get in the way of her being able to put her new discovery to use. The entire world is at stake, and our best friend has to save it (with our help at every turn, no matter what the stubborn git says). But somehow, I don't mind all of that right now. Right now, Hermione Granger has figured me out, and I know, irrepressible student that she is, she will eventually put that answer she found to good use.
I can't wait to find out what she does with it.
I've been doing this for a while now, a few months at least. Every night is almost always the same. Harry and I come in from quidditch practice (which is usually pretty grueling under the surprisingly fierce Katie Bell). We take our brooms up to our room and grab our books. I always make an excuse to face her, and Harry and I attempt homework for a while until Harry decides to write in his journal, something he's been doing a lot of since school started back this year. He doesn't talk as much in the evenings anymore, and I get that. He's got a lot on his mind, with Sirius' death and the prophesy always in the forefront of his thoughts. There's something new in the Prophet everyday, about a Death Eater attack or a Voldemort sighting (Yeah, I say the name now. If I've got to be around to fight him – which I will regardless of what tactics Harry tries to use to get me out of the way – then I should at least call him by his name). There are times when he just stares into the fire. He has a look of loss on his face, and it's almost as if he stares at that fire long enough, Sirius' head will pop up and everything will be ok. But we all know that right now, everything's not ok, and it won't be for a good long while.
These are the times I work out some way to look at her. At first, I thought I was doing it because everything's changing so fast that the familiar image of her constant study is almost comforting. It just feels right that no matter what, she would still find her way to a corner to pour over her work, throw herself into it. It's what I've seen her do since first year. It almost makes things feel normal, even if it's just for a second.
After a while, though, I noticed that it wasn't exactly like first year after all. Or maybe it is, and these are just things I never saw before. When she figures something out, she smiles in a way that I rarely see from her under other circumstances. It's a genuine smile, irrepressible and golden. That's just like her; the world is falling down everywhere, but she's irrepressible. It's amazing. Then there're her eyes. They squint and crinkle when she's trying to understand something new. When she's having a rough go of it, her eyes almost light like a blazing fire, almost like she's trying to burn the book with her eyes, dominate it. I realized a few days ago, when she seemed to be working on something especially difficult, that I've seen that look from her a number of times before, usually when we're fighting. I was momentarily phased and a little angry that she thinks of me that way, as some problem she wants to dominate. And then I smiled to myself, because I suddenly realized that I've been the one problem that her legendary mind hasn't been able to solve.
Harry knows what I do. He figured it out one night, when I was staring for a longer stretch than usual. I heard him laugh that night, one of his sincere, out loud laughs. It was the first time I'd heard him do that in months, so I automatically turned to him to see what had finally made him laugh. He was smiling, really smiling, and laughing so hard I thought he was going to fall off of the couch. I started to laugh too, because he just looked so damn funny.
"What are you on about?" I asked, trying to contain my own amusement and my joy that Harry was finally smiling.
Harry let out a few more laughs before he got himself under control. He looked like he was about to tell me what was so funny, but by that time, she had walked over to see what was going on.
He looked at me, and then at her, and then burst out laughing again.
"He's gone off his rocker," I said.
She and I looked at one another, clueless but smiling, and she wordlessly went back to her studying.
Harry calmed down a bit, and we all settled back into what we had been doing before. Harry was writing, she was studying, and I was staring.
I heard Harry snicker again, and decided that this time, I had to know what he thought was so funny.
"Ok, come on Harry, what's got you laughing? What kind of person doesn't share a good joke with his best mate?"
Harry grinned and put on his "you're so busted" face. "The kind that doesn't want his best mate to know that he's laughing at him," he answered.
"What are you talking about?" I said, probably far too defensively, since I already knew the answer.
Harry looked at her, then back at me and replied with a very pointed "Nothing," which was followed by a cough that mysteriously sounded like "About bloody well time."
I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, and I smiled at him because I couldn't help it. Well, it was better that he knew anyway.
Since then, I haven't had to make up an excuse to face her. Harry makes sure that I can always face her while we're "working" on homework. The whole thing is a chance to watch me make a prat out of myself, anyway, so naturally, he promotes it as much as possible. We talk about it a little, because I don't know what to do about her. He seems to think she feels the same way, but I can't believe that's true.
Tonight has been an especially good night, as I don't have loads of homework for once, so I have more time to stare than usual. She's working tirelessly, of course, writing an extra essay or something like that. It seems to be particularly challenging; she's had that fiery look for well over an hour now, and she's starting to look a little murderous. She sighs, tossing her quill aside. I try to look away before she catches me, but tonight, I don't make it in time.
Our gazes lock, and for a second, her burning eyes fall on me. I know how hard the evening has been for her, more than she knows, so I muster my best smile and throw it her way.
For a moment longer, her eyes are still on fire, but then, very quickly, the fire changes to something calmer. Her entire face changes, and she has her patent smile of discovery, this time bigger than ever. We look at one another for a moment longer before she picks her quill back up and goes back after the problem she left a moment ago, this time fiercer than ever.
It takes a second to realize what just happened. What could have brought on that smile of discovery? Was it that she finally understood the problem she was working on? As I resume my observation, I see that the fire is back in her eyes, the problem still going without an answer. It is not until now that it finally hits me: She discovered the answer to another problem in that moment, one that has been nagging at her for ages with no result. Hermione Granger finally figured me out.
I'm taken aback a little bit, confused, not knowing if this is good or not, or what she's going to do with that answer she just found, or what that answer actually is. I consider calling it a night, but before I do, I decide I want to look at her one last time, see if I can figure anything out for myself.
When I look back up at her, I find that she's already looking up at me. She smiles, but this time it's in a new kind of way, one that's not about discovering something. I don't know what it means, but I find that I kind of like it.
As I gather my things, she's already stooped back over her books. I know that tomorrow will come, and there could be a lot of things that get in the way of her being able to put her new discovery to use. The entire world is at stake, and our best friend has to save it (with our help at every turn, no matter what the stubborn git says). But somehow, I don't mind all of that right now. Right now, Hermione Granger has figured me out, and I know, irrepressible student that she is, she will eventually put that answer she found to good use.
I can't wait to find out what she does with it.
