1.Am I not pretty enough?
Hermione.
She did not really know what has become of her lately. On the whole, everything seemed fine. She was still Miss Hands-In-The-Air, the Know-It-All of the sixth-years. The library was still where she spent most of her time in between classes, and her nose was still in a different book at different times of the day. But only she knew the slight shift in her daily activities. Like how she would look straight ahead at the Professor when answering a question, and immediately go back to her book after finishing the answer, avoiding anyone's gaze. Or how she would march straight after class to the library, without so much as a pause to say goodbye to her friends. Or how the books helped to cover the sights that she did not want to see. Him. and Her. But nothing can stop the sound of them. Of the kisses that should be on and from her lips. Of the giggles that should come from her mouth when he whispers in her ear. Of the soft rustle of fabric when he moves his hands up and down what should be her
It continued to the night, the happy sighs of a young girl who can't believe her luck in snagging the dreamy red-head. The blow-by-blow account she would give to her best friend of her time with him that day. Them analysing every single look, caress and kiss he gave her. And Hermione could only sit in her bed, hangings drawn, pretending to read or practice a spell, when all she really did was..well, "I won't be so silly as that.." she thought, sniffling.
And when morning comes, she steels herself to get up and leave the seclusion of her bed, to face another day of in-your-face heartaches. She pushes the curtain open and proceeds to the bathroom. She had just come out, looking fresh as a daisy, smelling of -how original, lavender- and with a radiant smile on her already pleasant face. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, the quintessential youthful beauty. Hermione closed the door and stares at her reflection in the mirror. What, Ron, am I not pretty enough?