I hate it when we have a fight.

She shouts, and then I shout, and it goes back and forth, and it does my head it, because it's all my fault, and all she'd done was mention Krum, but it wasn't my fault I didn't like the guy- he's stolen the heart of Hermione.

I make some scathing remark about the two of them, and she replies that there wasn't anything going on between them, they were just friends, and I tell her that, maybe, if she kept telling herself that, she might believe it.

And then the shouting begins, and no-one take any notice, because it's so usual, and then she bursts into tears, and runs out, and I slump into a chair, and only then do Harry or Ginny turn to glare at me, as if it's all my fault.

Which it is.

It's always shortly after this that I storm up the stairs to the dorm, and lie there, pretending to be asleep if anyone comes in, but sleep is far from my mind.

I think about her instead.

I see her this year, with her bushy hair, and her cleverness, and her habit of constantly proving me wrong, and I think: I've definitely liked her this year.

I picture her last year, in fifth year, and I see her running around organizing the DA, and her getting frantic over the OWL's, in which she got Outstanding for practically everything, and her snapping at everyone, and I think maybe, just maybe, that that was when all this madness started.

Then I remember the Yule Ball, and I remember her perfect dress, and my jealousy, and I think I started liking her then.

But what about third year, with her looking out for Harry, and her not talking to be because of Scabbers, and her crying in my arms, and her thumping Malfoy, and I grin in the darkness, and I know I liked her then.

Yet in second year, I remember how terrified I was when she was petrified, and how much I wanted to kill Malfoy for that one comment, and I know it started then.

Then flashes of first year come back: the way she corrected my wingardium leviosa, and the look on her face whem faced with the Troll, and how she saved my life from the Devils Snare, and I think Oh God, I liked her since then.

And then I see it's not a case of "like", I love her, and have done since I laid eyes on her, and then I fall asleep to fitful dreams where Hermione is dead, and she's never there to reprimand me, or shout at me, and it is such a horrifying concept that I wake up sweating several times.

And in the morning Harry gives me such a meaningful smirk that I know I've been talking in my sleep, but I don't care, because all I have to do is mention Ginny, and that meaningful look will turn into a scared one, and I'll struggle to not laugh, because he's worried that I'll find out he likes Ginny, and I already know.

So we go down to the common room, and she's there, and Harry goes on ahead, and then I blurt out that I'm sorry, and she says sorry, and she smiles, and my heart jumps and breaks at the same time, but it's okay, everything's back to normal, and we're best friends again.

Only it's not okay.

Because everything's back to normal.

And I'm still not with her.