The Fire Inside

By: Fireseed. Don't steal my ideas, and I won't have to eat you.

Disclaimer: All characters, settings, etc. belong to Jo Rowling. I'm just borrowing them for the story.

Author's Note: Give the story a chance to get going, it might have a weak beginning but hold on to it. I'm always open to constructive criticism, and flames crack me up. I won't tell you the ships, because that sort of gives away the entire story. Basically, read and review and I'll be happy.

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How could she tell him how she felt? The looks he gave her always seemed so empty, so cold. There wasn't a chance that he'd give those looks to someone he felt anything for, if even friendship; and she felt so much more than that. If she had thought she'd felt love before, that feeling was nothing compared to this. One look at him and her heart skipped a beat, not to sound cliché. He was always so kind and sincere, and he cared for his friends more than most people did. He was perfect in her eyes, and to see him happy made her happy.

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Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place had not exactly been where Harry wanted to be this summer. The entire house was a memory of his Godfather, Sirius, who Harry had witnessed the murder in the past school year. He'd rather be in the whimsical, magical home of the Weasleys, the Burrow, but as the Weasleys were also gathered at The Order's hideout he would have to be there, unless of course he'd want to stay at the Dursley's.

Harry had asked Professor Dumbledore if he could spend the holidays with the Grangers that summer, but his Headmaster didn't want him to endanger Hermione's muggle parents, and felt Harry was safer in the undetectable Grimmauld Place to begin with. A number of magical charms had been placed on the headquarters, and Dumbledore was also the Secret Keeper. Unless Dumbledore personally told someone the whereabouts of the hideout, it could not be found. And while the wizarding community was under threat from Voldemort, and Harry was the main target, it was best if he was kept safe and in hiding.

He woke up in his bed one Saturday morning to find that his best friend Ron had already left the room. He quickly pulled off his pajamas and replaced them with clean clothes, and headed straight to the kitchen.

"Harry, you slept in!" Ginny, Ron's younger sister, said as he walked through the door. "We've already had Lunch, and everyone's busy cleaning, but there's spaghetti in the refrigerator."

"Thanks." Harry replied. Ginny beamed, her cheeks glowing, and left the room in a hurry. Harry watched her go and started to prepare himself a plate of spaghetti. Moments later, his best friend entered the room.

"Hey mate, Hermione should be here in about an hour." Ron greeted Harry, a grin on his face.

"Hermione?" Harry inquired, eyebrows raised past his fringe.

Ron shook his head, "Don't tell me you forgot? She's skipping out on her family vacation to America to stay here. She'd like to be with you because she knows, 'it's a stressful time for Harry, and I'd also like to get started on my campaigns for SPEW. Sixth year is the last year that I'll be able to put so much time into it and-' blah blah blah … you get the point, don't you?" Ron grinned.

Harry returned the smile, and laughed, "Yeah. Poor Hermione never has a break from herself." He went back to his spaghetti, and Ron lifted himself up on the counter beside him.

"What do you think of Hermione?" He asked. Harry was taken aback, in all their years being friends with Hermione, neither of them had mentioned her as more than a friend. He shook his head, maybe that wasn't what Ron meant.

"Like how do you mean?"

"Well, she's grown into herself in the past few years, hasn't she?" Ron's ears were turning red. "Not that I've noticed, well, it's hard not to notice but it's not that I've been looking. Or anything."

Harry laughed and patted Ron on the back. "Yeah, you're right. She's definitely grown up. What are your parents doing?"

"Cleaning. It's a lot easier now that Kreacher's gone though. Little bugger. I expect Hermione will be upset when she hears us talking about him, 'He's confused! He's been brainwashed, you would be a little unstable if you were kept in this house too, talking to that portrait!'"

Harry smiled and swallowed his plate of spaghetti quickly. Right after he'd put his plate in the sink, he clamped his hands over his ears. In a split second, Harry made out the sounds of a door opening, two girls screaming, and soon after, the shouts and morbid screamed of Sirius' mother in her portrait.

"Filthy! The people in my home! And there's the mudblood, it's a shame what kind of use this house is being put to!"

Ron began to laugh, and so did Harry. "Looks like Hermione's here."

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Summer was always hard on her. She had to go so long without seeing the bright green eyes sparkling when he spoke. Nothing was more painful than being kept away from him. She kept a log hidden under her pillow, and wrote in it when she missed him the most. Sometimes it did nothing, but sometimes it helped her to look in it and find their memories. She worried for him; life was so hard lately. Especially after the death of his Godfather, all she wanted was to run to him, hold him, and comfort him. She was certain of it, she loved him indeed, that Harry James Potter.