A/N: This is a story I am trying to get published on as well. This fic is inspired by something similar that occurred in my own life. Also, I don't own Harry Potter... dang. Enjoy.

Hermione was sitting at a table by herself in the library. There were several books lying open, but Hermione was paying attention to none of them. Instead, her focus was on something –or someone –entirely other than books. Yes, Miss Hermione Granger, bookworm and the brightest witch of her age, was thinking about a certain raven-haired, green-eyed best friend of hers.

For six years they had known each other, and for six years she had secretly had a crush on him. Sure, she had tried to place her affections elsewhere –namely Ronald Weasley. But as she had discovered back in fourth year, things simply weren't going to work between them. Ron was a sweet boy, at times. He could be fun, although it did seem that he was all fun and no work seeing how he never did his homework. He was caring, too; as long as you were discussing Quidditch, Wizard's Chess, or food, that is. Hermione could have accepted all of these things, she really could have. The one thing she could not accept, however, was that she was completely unable to have an intelligent conversation with the boy. The moment she mentioned any kind of schoolwork, Ron immediately either changed the subject or left the room altogether. And that was simply not going to work for Hermione.

So, she had gone back to daydreaming about her other best friend. The one with the kindest heart she had ever known. The one with a sense of humor and adventure as well as work ethic –better than Ron, anyhow. The one with whom she could sit down and talk about school and life and anything else. The one she was slowly falling in love with. And this thought scared her more than anything. How could she let herself fall in love with the one person who was absolutely perfect for her but who she could never have? This was a tragedy indeed. At least, it was a tragedy in her head and in her heart because she was never going to let anyone know that she secretly fancied Harry. Because when Harry found out and told her he didn't feel that same way, then it would be a tragedy in real life. And that simply was not going to work for Hermione.

She absentmindedly glanced up at the big clock on the wall to see that it was nearly one in the morning. Merlin, had she really been sitting there that long? After quickly returning the books to their proper places, she gathered her things and left the library. Ron and Harry were playing a game of Wizard's Chess in the Common Room, it was a Friday night.

"Merlin, Hermione, where have you been this whole time?" Ron asked, only looking up from the game for a second.

"I was just brushing up on my Ancient Runes. I have a test next Friday, and I want to make sure I'm adequately prepared, is all," she replied, looking at the slowly dying fire. She was tempted to sit in her favorite armchair and enjoy its warmth, but decided against it for fear of falling asleep in it and waking up with a terrible crick in her neck, as was the case a few nights ago.

"You're addicted to knowledge, do you know that," Ron said, not looking up from the game but shaking his head.

"Well, good night, boys," she replied, ignoring Ron's remark.

"Good night," they both replied, but she didn't see Harry look up at her as she turned to go up the stairs to her room. She opened the door to the 6th year girls' room to find Ginny sitting on her bed, looking frustrated.

"There you are! I've been waiting for you for almost an hour," exclaimed the fiery redhead. She appeared to be rather impatient to speak with Hermione.

"Is everything all right, Ginny?" Hermione asked, setting her things down and sitting on the bed next to her best girl friend.

Ginny sighed. "It's just… Well I mean… Can I talk to you about Harry? You have to promise not to tell, though." She said it all in one breath, and Hermione was surprised she understood what the girl had said at all. Reluctant to speak with Ginny, Harry's on-and-off fling, about her latest relationship problem with Harry but always willing to hear news about her secret crush, Hermione agreed.

"Right, well," Ginny started, sucking in a big breath as through she were about to tell a long story, "it's just that things between us aren't really working out. I mean, we have plenty in common to talk about –Quidditch and Ron and all –and I suppose we get along ok. But… it's just not there, that spark. You know… like when he kisses me I just don't really feel anything anymore. Frankly, I don't think he's really that good of a kisser in the first place. That doesn't help much."

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. Harry, not a good kisser? Out of all the things she thought Harry to be mediocre at, kissing was not one of them. Besides, he was a perfectly wonderful kisser in her daydreams.

"Well, um, Ginny. I can't say I know what to tell you. If you don't think it's working, then why don't you tell him that? You two have been pretty on again, off again here lately. Maybe it's time you try going out with other people?" She stopped there to ponder where what she had said was coming from. It would be wrong to tell Ginny to break up with Harry just because she, Hermione, wanted him for herself. But Ginny and Harry were both her friends, and she was confident that her advice came from her simple want for them both to be happy. After all, Harry deserved happiness above anyone else.

"Yeah… maybe you're right. I guess I've just liked Harry for so long, it seems so sad that things aren't working out. How should I tell him? I don't want to hurt his feelings," she said, chewing her bottom lip. Hermione looked around the room, racking her brain for the appropriate advice.

"Just tell him what you told me," she finally said. "If you can sense that it's not working out, then I'm sure he can, too. Besides, he's Harry. He'll be ok."

Ginny smiled and thanked her friend before leaving for her own room. Hermione sighed with relief; that wasn't as difficult as it could've been. And it wasn't that she didn't want Ginny to be with Harry; she didn't want anyone beside herself to be with him. She put the thought out of her mind –for now –and got ready for bed.

The next morning, she saw Ginny leaving through the portrait hole, leaving Harry to sit alone in the Common Room. Hermione took the few remaining steps into the room and walked to sit by him on the couch.

"Hey," she said, clutching her book to her chest; she knew what had just transpired.

"Hi," he said quietly, not looking up at her. She tried to understand what he was feeling, to gauge his reaction to Ginny's news. She could not; his face was expressionless as it tended to get when he was attempting to hide his emotions.

"What's up?" she asked, trying to get something, anything out of him.

"Just talked to Ginny." He said no more and still kept his eyes on the old, tattered rug.

"All right, you might as well tell me, Harry. You know I'll find out eventually," she said, both serious and jesting. He laughed and looked up at her finally; she was glad to see that his smile reached his eyes. His smiles always dazzled her most when they reached his eyes. "What?"

"Nothing. She just broke up with me; but you know, I'm not that upset. I thought I would be, but I'm not. We'd been arguing a lot lately; I think we both knew it wasn't going anywhere serious. It's just weird, I guess."

"Yeah, I know you really liked her," Hermione said, dragging her honey eyes from his gaze.

"I did like her, but I think I really only started dating her to get over this other girl I've liked for awhile." Hermione's face immediately fell at his words, Cho instantly came to mind. Of course he still liked her: she was gorgeous and athletic, all those things Hermione was not. "Don't get me wrong," he said when he saw her crestfallen face, "she's one of my best friends and I never meant to use her. It just kind of happened." He shrugged and ran a hand through his permanently unruly hair.

"I guess I should've known you still had a thing for Cho," she said, trying her best to not look upset as she met his eyes. He laughed again. "What?" She'd almost screamed it and blushed at her unusual rashness.

"For the brightest witch of our age, you really can be thick sometimes. It's not Cho I like." She tilted her head to the side inquisitively. "It's you."

She felt a million different emotions at his words: confusion, hope, fear, excitement. Harry was worried that he shouldn't have said anything as he watched her face change with each emotion she felt. But he couldn't bring himself to say anything more; he just sat there helplessly. Finally, she smiled. It was a mischievous smile that she had developed in the past few years.

"Do you know, Ginny told me something the other day that I scarcely believe to be true. But I have no proof, you see," she said as she scooted ever so slightly closer to him on the couch.

"Oh, and what is that?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"She said you weren't the best kisser. And I just have to know if she was right or not." Harry was a little caught off guard at first, but quickly regained his senses; he needed no more invitation than she had given. He leaned forward slowly and pressed his lips to hers. It was the most wonderful sensation; her lips were soft and almost too warm against his, but he loved it. She leaned in a little more, pressing their lips harder together briefly before pulling away. She was met with another one of his dazzling smiles.

"What?"

"Ron was right," he replied, a chuckle in his voice, "you are addicted to knowledge."