I feel pathetic just sitting here watching her everyday. Not being able to pluck up the courage to even talk to her. And I call myself a Gryffindor. Please! And the worst part is we're in the same house! We're friends. I mean, I talk to her of course but as friends. But never alone. That's where my Gryffindor courage just becomes so bloody elusive. So instead I sit in the library watching. Just watching her. The way she scrunches up her nose just a bit when she's concentrating, the way that one stubborn little curl refuses to stay put behind her ear. And I draw her. The natural highlights in her beautiful chocolate brown hair. The flecks of gold in her big brown eyes. Her cute little blush every time she is praised by a teacher. Even the way she frowns when she's scolding Ron and Harry, or being jeered at by Malfoy. This girl is the definition of perfect. What am I compared to her? These are always the things that go through my mind when I think of her. I am an inferior being next to her. But today is different. Today in the library on a Sunday when the library is for the most part empty I am different. Watching her sit by the window re-reading Hogwarts a History, the late afternoon sun splashing onto her features, illuminating one half of her face, and casting a light shadow on the other, all curled up in a chair, her parchment, ink, quills and books neatly placed on the table in front of her, something in me stirs. All alone in the library with her, I think I may have found my ever indefinable Gryffindor courage. Or rather, it found me. For when I was done drawing her gathered up my things and walked over to her.
"Hello Hermione" I say slightly nervous. Okay very bloody nervous. She looks up and smiles warmly at me.
"Oh hello Dean, you gave me a start, I thought I was all alone." She said taking her feet from under her and sitting up straight. Did I spy a small blush grace her beautiful face?
"What are you reading?" I ask knowing full well already, but just needing to start a conversation before I lost my mind.
"Oh nothing, just re-reading Hogwarts a History for about the hundredth time. I just never get tired of it. Every time I read it, it's almost as if I've never read it before. I'm always finding out something new." She ranted. It was super cute.
"Well I can't say I can relate to that feeling but, I can say that it does pretty unusual." Niiice. "Hey did you do Snape's potions essay?" What the hell kind of question was that? This Hermione bloody freaking Granger I'm talking about. Of course she did it. Most likely the night it was assigned.
"Oh yes of course, the night it was given." What'd I say?
"Of course Ron and Harry teased me for it. But now they're going to be asking for my help." She laughed well naturedly.
"Well I was wondering-if it's of no inconvenience to you- if you could look over my essay for me? I'm not interested in being made an example to everyone in class on Tuesday." I say truthfully." So far so good!
"Oh of course Dean. It's no inconvenience at all. Let me have a look." She says brightly.
That is when the unthinkable happens. As i'm looking through my bag, my sketch book falls open onto the floor at feet. She reaches down to grab it before I can stop her and looks at the page it opened to. It was a picture of her sitting under the beech tree by the lake, reading. The wind blew just as I was getting to her hair and so I drew that. Her hair in her face, her moving it.
Her face was expressionless as she turned the page. I quickly snatched the book from her got my things and tried to hurry out of the door as fast as he could.
"Dean! Dean wait! Where are you going? STOP!"
I stopped walking and braced myself for the rage and disgust that was sure to be spewing from her this very moment. I turned slowly ready to apologize to a surely very pissed of and creeped out Hermione, but instead bombarded by a flash of brown and the feel of soft full lips on mine. Before I even had time to process what was happening, I wrapped my arms around her tiny waist and deepened the kiss. She licked my lips asking for entrance which almost too enthusiastically granted; disappointed that she even felt the need to be so cautious. I loved her. But then, I forgot, she didn't know that. Mustering every ounce of will power I possessed, I pulled back, not for me but so she could breathe. If it were up to me, that's how I would die. In her arms.
"Why didn't you say anything Dean?" She asked breathlessly.
"What do you mean?" I asked confusedly. A look of pure hurt washed over her perfect visage.
"I just thought, well I saw the drawings I just thought that you felt the same way I did and so that's why I- oh never mind!" She turned to walk away but not before I saw a single tear fall down her flawless ivory cheek. Shit! I'd made her cry because I took a second to long to process her question. Why didn't I speak up about my feelings for sooner is what she was asking. I quickly snapped out of my stupor just in time to grab her arm and pull her into the tightest hug I could without hurting her.
"Make no mistake of my feelings for you Hermione. I love you and I have for years now. I wouldn't have let you just kiss like that if I had not. And I certainly would not have kissed you back. I love you Hermione. If you don't believe me I'll show you. Tonight meet on the seventh floor by the room of requirement. If you don't show, then I'll take that as an expression of how you really feel. If you do, you will not be disappointed. With that, I left without so much as a backwards glance. I didn't want to see the look on her face. I know I wouldn't be able to bear it.
I waited on the seventh in front the wall opposite of the tapestry. I was bloody nervous. So much so that my hands were trembling. What if she doesn't show up? What if she went to tell everyone that I was freak who stared at her during the day and had a full creepy sketch book full of nothing but her. But then, I thought she had kissed me, the only reason i'm up here is because I made her cry. She wouldn't have cried unless she was hurt. And she wouldn't have been hurt if she absolutely no feelings for me. Not to mention she said "I thought you felt the same way I do." Yeah. So what the hell am I worrying about? Of course she'll show. She's definitely going to- my thoughts were interrupted by a feather light tap on my shoulder. I turned quickly to see a very small looking Hermione in sky blue flannel pajamas with clouds on them.
"Hello Hermione" I said. Who knew flannel pajamas could look so sexy on someone? Because flannel does not equal sexy. Not in the wizarding or muggle, yet she had achieved it. And quite effortlessly might I add. And that's one of the things that made her so amazing.
"Hi Dean. And here I was thinking I was going to look silly wearing my pajamas to come up and meet you." She said a little too self consciously, gesturing to my plain white t-shirt and red and black plaid pajama pants. I smiled.
"Well at least we're comfortable. Err shall we?" I asked nodding to still empty wall.
"We shall" she replied evenly. With that I walked in front of the wall several times thinking about what we needed.
As the door appeared I stopped short and turned to her.
"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? I mean, I don't want to feel like I'm quilting you into doing this." I said suddenly unsure again. She looked at me tenderly and said "Of course dean"
Assured I opened the door and followed her in. Inside there was a single king sized bed with a burgundy comforter, folded down with white sheets and a fire illuminating the bed just short of the bed frame leaving everything else in total darkness. When I looked up she was already sitting atop the bed waiting for me. Slowly I walked to her and kissed her painfully slow, relishing in the taste of her, the feel of her. She took off my shirt, only breaking the kiss for a second. Next she proceeded to wrap her legs around me taking of my pants with her feet, revealing me in all my glory. She was a pro, had she done this before? I worked my up her sides slowly. A soft moan escaped her lips as I reached the area right above her pelvis, and another right as my thumb grazed the side of her left breast. I undid her buttons and pulled off her pants as well. Just as I was positioning myself at her entrance, I whispered, "are you sure?" she nodded and squeezed her eyes shut bracing herself for the pain we both knew would have to come. So she was a virgin. Without further thought, I pushed forward as her nails dug into my skin. I hated this part but I had to. And for the rest of the night until morning we were one. I'd never dreamed she'd be mine in any sense of the word. But now she was and would be forever. With her, I am complete.