She's biting her lip again. And there's a curl falling towards her eyes. She brushes it away like an annoying fly and scrunches her nose in concentration.

The room is slowly emptying, so the fire sounds louder and louder. It's almost beautiful, but not as beautiful as her.

He's not quite sure when he realized that she was actually a girl. At the Yule Ball she looked incredible, but she was still her. Still Hermione.

Now who is she? With her white blouse, cutoff jeans, and light pink toe nails. When did she become something more?

"You're staring," she murmurs without even looking up from her book. "Are you even trying to finish the essay," Hermione questions, sighing, as she catches his eye for a moment.

"Sorry," he mutters, begging himself not to blush, which of course means he does. The parchment ruffles in his lap and he frowns at the non-existent wind.

Suddenly the papers fly everywhere and his book flips over. Harry lets out a yell and hops up to catch his assignment.

"I'm sorry," she says breathlessly, covering her mouth. "You weren't paying any attention, so…" The look in his eyes makes her falter and she sets her book onto the table in front of her. "Harry?"


It's the next morning in the Great Hall and Harry hasn't spoken to her since last night. Hermione frowns as Ginny laughs loudly at Dean's ridiculous joke, tossing her hair over shoulder.

When did things change?

One moment they all talked and the next – the next she was alone. Left far behind.

Ginny had Dean, Ron had Lavender, Luna had Neville, and Harry… Who did Harry have?

Not Hermione, certainly. Not anyone, from the looks of it. But now he's walking towards the table with extra-messy hair and wiping off his lips with a smirk. The girl behind him giggles and runs towards her friends.


The news hits by lunch. Harry feels bad for lying, but maybe if everyone thought he wasn't alone, he wouldn't feel alone.

But the look in her eyes when she realizes what it all means… he can feel his heart crack quietly.

Ron slaps him on the back, happy it isn't Ginny, and makes a joke about being the Chosen One. Luna just sits quietly with her wide, knowing eyes and shakes her head slowly. Luna always knows.

Harry just wishes that he had told her when he had the chance. Multiple chances.

Every class lasts too long, and without Hermione nudging him constantly, he feels as though he could die in the hot, stuffy classrooms.

"Mr. Potter, page 278."


Hermione sheds off her robe, unbuttons the top two buttons of her blouse and toes out of her shoes.

The sun feels fantastic against her legs because she's wearing shorts that make her legs look like they go on forever.

Hermione pulls out her book and slides down to sit under her favorite Willow tree. The book is a romance about a knight in shining armor off to save his princess. Even bookworms want romance.

A splash makes her glance up and she notices a few first years playing on the shore. She never played on the shore. In fact, the only time she set foot in the Lake was fourth year for the tournament.

She had never swam at Hogwarts.


It's dark out as Harry strolls away from the castle to clear his thoughts. He hasn't talked to Hermione since last night and it makes him feel so unbelievably ill.

As he walks, he admires the stars and the silent beauty that you can only find at night.

Harry reaches his tree and frowns when he notices the shoes, socks, and robe that lay folded in a pile.

"Ah!" A voice calls from the Black Lake and suddenly Harry is running towards the edge of the water because he knows that scream. He throws off his sweatshirt and is just running into the lake when he hears a quiet laugh.

"Hermione?

"Harry!" She gasps as she stands up in the chest-high water. Harry gulps as he realizes that her white blouse is completely soaked through.

"Hermione, why are you out here this late?" Harry questions lightly, squinting just a little to make out her face.

"I- I just… Never mind, goodnight," she mumbles, going as quickly as she can to the shore to sneak away.

In the full moon light, Harry doesn't think Hermione has ever looked more beautiful, or more like a girl. With her breasts straining against her shirt and her shorts clinging tightly to her skin.

"'Mione, wait, please," he whispers, grabbing for her hand as she walks past. "I- I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she responds, pulling away to walk towards the tree.

"No," he says, moving to spin her towards him. "It's not. Hermione, look at me."

Hermione shyly glances at his eyes and is afraid of what she sees there – a light that she's noticed before. Last night. As she studied her book and he studied her; as though for the very first time.

"Hermione, I'm sorry for today and last night and just lately, alright? I don't know why, but things haven't been right, and I have to fix this. Today was bloody awful without you." Harry waited anxiously to hear her say that all was well, but she didn't say a word. Hermione only stared over his shoulder at the moon.

"Harry," she hesitated and stepped out of his grip. "You were with someone today. I can't – I can't tell you everything is okay when it's not," he voices cracks and she hurries away; before she can fall into his arms. She races towards the tree and stumbles over a branch, splayed out on the ground.

"Hermione!" Harry hurries forward and falls to his knees beside her. "Are you alright?" She nods as she sits up slowly, checking for injuries. "Hermione, I'm not with anyone, never have been! I had to catch your attention, so I asked that girl to play along and promised her a date to Hogsmeade. I swear," he pulls her to him on the ground. "I swear there's no one. No one but you, that is."