A/n- Another story i wrote when I should've been paying attention in class and listening to what my Biology teacher was telling me. But hey, who cares if Mendel was the father of genetics, anyway?
Harmony fluffy stories are A LOT more fun.
Hope you like it. Please review!
The Name Games
He never called me Granger.
The only thought in Hermione's mind, as she walked towards the black lake, was that Harry Potter had never called her 'Granger'. As she raked her mind through the past, she could recall many instances when people, even her friends, had called her by her surname.
But to Harry she'd always been Hermione.
She'd heard him call Ginny "Weasley", he'd even called Cho "Chang" and that was while they were dating, or well date, since they only went out once.
But he'd never called her Granger.
What did it mean? Was she different than other girls? Was it because he thought of her as a sister?
Did it really mean anything?
Of course it doesn't mean anything, Hermione, stop grasping at straws.
Hermione cursed Parvati and Lavender for filling her head with these stupid things. She'd never been one to overanalyze every word boys said to her.
He doesn't like you; she told herself, stop hoping that he might. Her heart protested at the thought, but no matter what she told herself, she couldn't help but feeling elated even at the slightest possibility that he might.
Stop it, her mind screamed at her heart again, just because you have a crush on him does not mean that he thinks of you as anything more than a friend. Get it heart, IT DOES NOT. Now push some more blood here, brain needs to give away some carbon-di-oxide, and take some oxygen.
Hermione laughed at her own joke, and caught some weird looks from fourth year ravenclaws sitting under a tree. Hermione sighed, and willed her feelings to go away, but just like every time she'd asked them to go away before, they sat right there in her heart like a mob on a protest, demanding to kiss Harry Potter, from the government of brain.
Stop thinking in metaphors, it's really getting old.
She was doomed, she thought with a sigh, no escape from this castle of madness, asylum of insanity, home of sadness and world of vanity.
Great, first metaphors, now rhyming? Maybe she should just drop everything, go back in time, and become Shakespeare's assistant. He might need another heart breaking story and there was nothing sadder than a girl who had gone on and fallen for her best friend.
But she never dared to even hope that he might reciprocate her feelings, because Hermione had learned early on that hopes and expectations were strong feelings and if they went unanswered, it hurt. So, she'd suppressed her feelings and tried to go on as if everything was okay.
Tried to go on pretending as if she didn't feel like she did, pretending that she hadn't missed a load of notes because she'd been busy staring at Harry, pretending that she wasn't spending her days and nights thinking about him and his smile, and his messy black hair.
But the one thing she hadn't been able to do was talk herself out of falling for him.
Oh, stop with the pity party already.
Damn Parvati and Lavender and their stupid magazine for making her hope for something that could... would never happen.
Today had been like any other, classes spent staring at him and breaks spent talking and laughing with him, until she'd walked up to the dormitory to retrieve some books. It was then that she'd heard Parvati and Lavender reading an article from Witch Weekly.
"According to a source in the Emotions and Feelings Section of St Mungo's," Read out Parvati "A new theory has come to light and Healers say that the way a person refers to another person can be a very strong indicator about their relationship, and the healers call the muggle who said 'What is in a name?' an imbecile and other unkind words that cannot be published here. The theory calls upon the British tradition of calling a person by their last name and suggests that the usage of the last name indicates an impersonal or informal relationship, much like the relationship between acquaintances or family. So ladies, if a boy calls you by your last name it's likely that you are in what this generation likes to call the 'friendzone'. It also suggest that if a boy calls you by your first name there is a 60% chance that you mean more to him than a friend. According to the research, the usage of first names suggests an intimate and personal relationship between two people and if you get your own nickname then the chances increase by 15%. So buck up ladies, and determine who calls you Parvati and who calls you Patil."
Then they both had exclaimed about the usage of Parvati's name in the magazine and had started to make a list of boys who called them by their first names.
It hadn't taken long for Hermione to determine that the article had been charmed to identify and display the name of the reader. But what she hadn't been able to determine the authenticity of the article because as she thought about the abundance of 'Hermione's or 'mione's and the lack of 'Granger's', she wondered that if there was a 75% chance that Harry might like her.
She was walking towards the spot where she usually sat when she noticed Harry, sitting behind some rocks and crouching as if he as hiding. She walked towards him and was about to ask what was going on when he put his fingers to his mouth and signalled for her to sit down beside him. She sat down beside him and crouched, confused.
"Harry," she whispered, "What in the name of Merlin's pants is going on?"
"I'm spying on Malfoy" he said, and Hermione frowned. Again? Harry had become obsessed with Draco Malfoy this year to the extent where Hermione had started to feel jealous of all the attention he was giving Malfoy.
Hermione strained her neck to look at Malfoy, and she was surprised to find that he wasn't alone, and couldn't control her laughter when she saw who he was with.
"You are spying on Malfoy when he is on a date?" she asked, and fought off the urge to laugh out loud.
Harry grimaced and said, "I followed him when I saw him coming here, I figured he was meeting someone about what he's been up to, turns out the meeting was more of a romantic kind."
Hermione's shoulders shook with silent laughter when Pansy Parkinson's shrilly voice reached them. She was talking about the 'deep grey storms' that were Draco's eyes.
"I'm scarred for life." Said Harry, and they both laughed considering Harry's history with lifelong scars.
"So what's this one shaped like?" she asked, grinning.
"'The closed up cage' that is Malfoy's heart." Harry replied with a grin, and recognising this as something Pansy must've said, Hermione laughed.
But their smiles soon turned to grimaces as they heard moans from the other side of the rocks.
She strained her head to see what was going on and immediately regretted it.
"Great, now I've seen more of Draco Malfoy than I ever wanted to." She said, and Harry's eyes were lit up with both amusement and sympathy.
"God Parkinson..." called out a voice, and Hermione wished that she was anywhere but there. Harry cringed and was about put his fingers in his ears when they both heard a pissed out sounding Pansy Parkinson say
"What did you just call me?"
"Wha... What?" said Draco Malfoy, sounding completely confused.
"What. Did. You. Just. Call. Me.?" said Pansy again, and they both crouched down more as she stood up.
"I called you Parkinson, your name." Said Malfoy, he too, was standing up.
Then they heard the sound of hand meeting flesh.
"I know things, Malfoy, I read articles and magazines, you liar. You don't love me, you just want a shag, you slimy jerk." She yelled, and then walked away.
Malfoy stood there for a minute looking completly astonished, then with muttering something that sounded a lot like "Women", he walked away in the opposite directions as Pansy.
Harry looked relieved and confused.
"You know what all that was about?" he asked, no longer whispering, and Hermione shook her hear.
But she was pretty sure that she knew exactly which article Pansy had been talking about.
They both straightened and stood up to walk away, and something inside Hermione, probably the Gryffindor inside her, willed her to take a chance, and this time she listened to her impulsive side.
"You never called me Granger, why?" she asked.
"What?" This time, it was Harry's turn to look confused.
"During all the years that we've know each other, you always called me Hermione, never Granger, why?"
"Hermione, why does it matter?" he asked.
"It just does, come on Harry, answer the question."
He stared at her minute, as if lost in thought, and she saw his green eyes grow darker. A strong wind flew through the grounds and Hermione's hair flew on her face.
She struggled to collect them and move them away, when a hand reached her face and she felt him move her curls behind her ear, and looked up at him to find him staring at her with green eyes, that were twinkling with something she couldn't recognise.
"I never called you Granger, Hermione, because in my mind I always thought of another last name that would suit you better." He replied.
Before she could ask him about what he'd said, he kissed her.
His lips moved against hers and she couldn't feel anything else but him, as he stroked her cheek with one hand and wrapped the other around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She wrapped her hands around his neck and held on to what was the best kiss of her life.
After what felt like just a heartbeat, they pulled apart, and he rested his forehead on hers and smiled, and she couldn't help but smiling back.
"What surname do you think would suit me better?" she asked, blessing a million subscribers to that magazine in her heart.
"Potter." he replied, before he kissed her again.
A/n- Hope you guys liked it!