There was only one way to explain it. She was crazy. Despite the fact that she was the brightest witch of their year, she was at a loss for an explanation. Whenever they would happen to inadvertently touch, or meet each other's gaze – if only for an instant – all thoughts or reason completely left her mind.
It didn't seem to help that he was head boy, which meant they shared a dormitory. Of course, they had separate bedrooms, but they shared a bathroom and common room outside that.
He had lain off calling her names after their 5th year, and this, their 7th year, he was downright nice. There was no other way to put it. He was a changed man. He put effort into cooperating at prefect meetings, and was capable of intelligent conversation (who knew?!).
There was still the house rivalry and all, and Ron didn't exactly care for him much, but Harry found he could be tolerable.
As soon as quidditch started, she missed his presence in the evenings. He was, after all, captain of the Slytherin team. He would often come in late, mud splattered, and once, with a broken collar bone (ouch!) from a rogue bludger. She had stayed up to heal it and given him a speech worthy of McGonagall.
If only he knew how much it hurt her to see him in pain. Of course, she would not admit it, not even to Ginny. She knew damn well she would tell Blaise, and Blaise, being his best mate would open his mouth. Bloody git. There was no one. Harry would give it away, and Ron would get angry. She was, for lack of a better term, trapped.