Harry was looking at her again. Why on earth did he keep looking at her?
If she hadn't known better, Hermione could have sworn that was the look of puppy love. But why would Harry be looking at her like that? She wasn't under any delusions; she knew that Harry fell for the prettiest girls, not the smartest. She didn't really care, although… maybe it would have been nice to go out with Harry. But she wasn't going to embarrass herself with a guy she had no chance with, especially not her best friend.
Hmm. Maybe she would ask. Was she brave enough? N—Yes! Yes she was! Wasn't she a Gryffindor for a reason? How hard would it be to march over there and ask Harry, "Why are you looking at me like that?" It'd be quite simple.
Maybe tomorrow, if he was still doing it.
"Harry, um, I wanted to ask you, um—"
"I've done my homework, Hermione. I promise."
"No, no, um. That's not quite it. I wanted to ask you, um."
"What?"
"Um, um. If you'd seen my eagle-feather quill?"
"Nope, sorry. Are you sure you're all right, Hermione?"
"Yeah, um, I have to go now. Bye!"
Fleeing to her room, Hermione landed face-down on her bed and screamed into her pillow. What had happened to her much-vaulted Gryffindor courage? She sounded like Neville! This would not do. Not at all.
Hermione marched down the steps, determined.
"Harry, I wanted to ask you why you've been looking at me like that."
"Like what, Hermione?" Harry's face was strangely red. He didn't blush easily, Hermione knew. Could this be a good sign?
"Well… it's really kind of a… puppy love face."
"Oh." Harry looked like he didn't know what to say. Hermione didn't know what to say either. All she wanted to do was die.
"Well, Lavender told me the other day that I was supposed to like you."
"Wait a second, Harry. You were… supposed to… like me? What's that mean?"
"Well…" He looked embarrassed. "She explained it like I'm the hero and you're the heroine. Which I'm not. Are you a heroine? I don't even know what a heroine is. But Lavender thinks we're like, destined to be together or something."
Hermione's heart fell. He wasn't in love with her. He was trying, maybe, to be in love with the idea of her. But he would never be in love with her.
And suddenly it hit her. Did she really want him to be in love with her?
Did she really want to go out with anyone who would listen to Lavender; to anyone who was so unassuming and modest? Hermione hated it when people refused to acknowledge their achievements. Harry never stood up for his own power, or claimed his accomplishments. Not like Ron did. Ron had always known when he did well and when he deserved to toot his own horn. He never minded tooting Hermione's horn, either. Actually, Ron was probably better for her than Harry. He was more like her, he knew how to love, and he never listened to Lavender, that's for sure.
But how to break it to Harry? Ah, she knew.
"Harry, Lavender was mistaken. You are a hero, you know. But I'm not your heroine. Think back. Heroines are usually people you've rescued. Girls who will love you forever because you've saved their life. Have you saved any girls lately?"
She almost pitied Ginny, but Hermione figured that maybe the two of them were more compatible than herself and Harry. And besides… that way, she could be Harry's sister-in-law.
Had she really just thought that?