Disclaimer: Characters and Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling, not me, no matter how much I want them to.
A/N: Just a one shot based on the song 'I'm Not That Girl' from the Wicked soundtrack. The best and most uplifting musical I've ever seen. This seemed to fit with Hermione's feelings towards Ron in the sixth book. Or what I imagine she felt.
Hermione leant forward in her chair, hoping to grab the last sherbet lemon in the packet on the table in the Gryffindor common room. However, instead of feeling the small sugary sweet beneath her fingers, she felt something warm and soft. Ron had reached for the sweet at the same moment she had, their hands having met just above where the last sweet lay. Neither of them moved for a moment. Hermione moved her gaze upward and their eyes met. There was a sudden silence surrounding the pair, a sudden heat. Her heart leapt in a giddy whirl, but before she could even think about her next move, Ron moved his hand away and ran it through her hair, before shoving it in his pocket and looking anywhere but at her. She moved her hand back and used it to prop her book up properly. The sweet lay forgotten in its packet.
Hermione looked away from Ron and toward the window. She could feel Harry staring at the two of them. Hermione's mind began to whir, but she had to constantly remind herself not to dream too far, or she was bound to lose sight of everything, because of him. She tried to forget that rush of joy when their hands had met. Hermione dreamt of him regularly, taking every available opportunity to return to the land of what-might-have-been, but that certainly didn't soften the ache she felt, when reality set back in. She had watched him with her, together, eating each other's faces. On the surface her face showed disgust, but on the inside her heart glowed green. Because of that girl. She was winsome, and she won him. Her gold hair had a gentle curl. That was the girl he chose.
She hadn't given up wishing, though she knew that wishing only wounds the heart. She just wasn't born for the rose and the pearl. There was a girl she knew. The girl with the gold hair that had a gentle curl. The girl he chose. Oh how he loved her so. He could have been that boy, Hermione sighed, but she just wasn't that girl.