Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or a bunch of other stuff. Sorry to disappoint.

Hermione's first love was a boy named Carl Winston.

Carl was an unbelievably simple boy with unbelievably simple looks and an unbelievably simple personality. Looking back on it now, Hermione can't seem to recall a reason as to why she was drawn to him. With his unbelievableness he would trot into class with his shoes on the wrong feet and gum stuck unknowing in his short brown hair. Yes, he was a 4 year old not to remember, young Carl was, but he was vibrant in Hermione's mind.

They had met on the fourth day of school in Miss Silverston's kindergarten class. That immediately caught Hermione's attention. She had read a bit of a book once that had fell off her mother's desk and it explained in painful detail that the number four was a romantic number indeed. You always need to be thinking about the number four, and how it could help you catch a fine husband or kiss a stranger in the rain (something that horrified Hermione to no end, honestly a stranger), or even decode what he's "really trying to tell you". She also discovered she was a Virgo.

Most of that book was rubbish, as Hermione's mother had told her hastily and took the book away. But the seed had already been planted in the 4 year olds brain. And it was beginning to sprout.

So on that fourth day of school she watched Carl from afar just to see if he too was desperately in love with her. It didn't appear that he was. So Hermione said hello to him.

Carl looked at her and said hello back. To Hermione's joy he asked her if she wanted to play blocks with him and she accepted without pause.

After a fun morning playing with blocks the two headed outside for recess. They were friends now, her and Carl, the blocks had sealed the deal and Hermione was happy for the fact. She was sure Carl was too.

But let's face it this is kindergarten. He was a boy, she was a girl, and can I make this anymore obvious? No I can't. An epidemic is going around here people, and let's be frank: no one wants cooties.

"Hermany, you can't be friends wiff a boy, you'll, like, catch cooties," one of Hermione's blonde classmates said.

"Yeah."

"Of course."

"Stupid."

"What if she already has 'em?"

"Ewwww."

"You're, like, a poo face."

Hermione burst into tears. She had never been called stupid before, or a poo face, that was a new low to her adolescent ears. She ran crying to Miss Silverston. The teacher comforted her and scowled the other girls, forcing them to apologize and invite Hermione to play in the sandbox with them.

Hermione however didn't go with them to the sandbox she went over to where Carl sat on the number rug looking at a picture book. She sat down beside him.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she answered, "Can I read with you?"

Carl merely shrugged. She leaned close and found he was on the first page. She waited for him to move on, but after she read the words under the picture for a third time, she picked the book up out of his lap and read it to him. When she had finished the Clifford the Big Red Dog book she looked at him and was rewarded with him smiling at her in happiness.

"You're pretty smart," he announced and handed her the next Clifford book. Hermione kept reading the picture books out loud for him until lunch.

Miss Silverston separated the boys and girls to different tables for the meal, so Hermione chatted with the girls from before and excitedly traded her ham sandwich for a ham and cheese sandwich. She drank her juice box while marveling over the ham and cheese. It was a good lunch. She planned on introducing the concept of two contents in her sandwiches, rather than just the one, to her parents.

This left her in a skipping mood when she went outside to find Carl. When she found him he wouldn't look at her and all the boys near him giggled. She touched his arm in attempt to gain his attention. This backfired.

He pushed her away. Hermione tripped and landed in a puddle of mud, wrecking her new school clothes and her skipping mood.

The boys all ran away except for Carl whom pulled her up and mumbled sorry. He whipped the hand he touched her with on his shirt with rush.

"Why did you do that?" Hermione said as she assessed the damage of her clothes.

Carl's short reply came quietly. "Cooties."

She only looked at him. Was she the only one who saw the flaw in the cooties theory? So she only looked at him. He just looked back. Unbelievable. Carl shrugged and turned to leave.

"See you later, Hermany."

Hermione only looked at Carl as he and his unbelievableness trotted away with the shoes on his feet corrected by Miss Silverston and gum still matted firmly in his hair.

Hermione's second love was named Barb. She was a baby mouse that Hermione's father had saved from drowning when its tail was caught in a snag of mud and twigs. It had been struggling under the drain pipe in a storm.

Barb was given milk, apples, and blankets. She was placed in Hermione's room in the middle of her desk and was under constant watch by the little girl.

Hermione adored the mouse to know end. In the morning she would wake up, eat breakfast, than stare at the sleeping form of the mouse until her mother called her to the car for school. When she got home she would fly into the house, grab the apple slices her father would have ready for her, and run to her room. Barb would be awake then.

The little mouse would be excited for food and company and attention, all which Hermione would graciously give. After they were both done with the food, the little girl would sit at the desk to finish homework, never taking her one eye away from the active mouse that would run around the maze Hermione and her mother had constructed in the box that served as Barb's house.

Yes, Hermione loved Barb the mouse. And they had much in common. Barb's hair was starting to grow in quickly. It was light brown and puffy, and her eyes were brown, two things that filled Hermione with spirit. Knowing she wasn't quite alone in some ways. Maybe in the mouse world that was also considered ugly by your peers.

Then at night, after Hermione had bathed, eaten, brushed her hair and teeth, and watched her mother close her door for the night, she would scoop Barb out of her box and hold her until she fell asleep. Hermione petted the mouse's fur, watching the slow rise and fall of the creature's body that would tell her when Barb was fully asleep. Hermione always put Barb back in the same blanket they had used from the beginning and carefully pull a corner over to cover the rodent's body up to the neck.

On the fourth week that Barb was with them, she got sick.

The small mouse didn't eat much and moved only a little when nudged at. Hermione's spirit was gone. She hardly ate anything either and didn't move from the desk unless school was involved. Hermione's mother bought medicine for Barb and put it in her water.

Barb drank the water, but still moved and ate less and less each day. Hermione started giving the mouse kisses each night for reassurance that she was still there.

One afternoon she got home and didn't go straight to her room. She sat on the couch in front of the TV and stared off, with a feeling of worse dread than what she'd felt all week. Something told her that she didn't want to go see Barb. It felt a little like some part of her just demanded her to stay put, even when she tried to get up.

Her mother sat down next to her. "Honey."

"Did she die?" Hermione asked in a tiny raspy voice, part of her already knowing the answer.

Her mother wrapped her arms around her. She said, "Yes, I'm sorry Hermione."

Hermione at first didn't do anything. Than after a minute she wrapped her arms around her mother and sobbed.

The next week, they buried little Barb in the backyard wrapped in the blanket. Hermione, who had felt like she had no more tears left, cried again, clinging to her mother's coat. Her father fashioned a smooth rock atop the grave and wrote in black permanent marker, Barb the Mouse.

Hermione's third love came in the form of two different people. Their names were Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. A curious duo they were when she walked into their compartment on her first train ride to Hogwarts. She hadn't really thought much of other children when she received her letter to Hogwarts, the thought had never crossed her mind that she wasn't the only one attending, and that might be where the confidence in herself started.

She felt so incredibly special when she got that letter. Hermione, out of so many people in the world, would be going to a school for wizards and witches to learn magic. With her not being of previous magic decent, Hermione glowed with excitement and had a smug air silently following her every move throughout the summer, awaiting the day when she would climb aboard the train to Hogwarts.

She had had a tricky enough time getting to the platform, and any even trickier time saying farewell to her parents. But it was only when she couldn't find an empty compartment when she realized a barrier in her perfectly structured plans for this school. She was going to have the same problem here that she had at her normal school.

People avoided Hermione. They just did. She didn't know why. Perhaps they weren't interested in school, which confused her to no end, perhaps they were repelled by her looks, or perhaps it was her personality. Hermione's mother insisted to her that it was them, it was her classmates they were just ignorant to her amazing personality, and her amazing looks, and her amazing interest in anything school related. Yeah, it was them alright.

Hermione understood she was different, she knew that. She'd know that for years, since that one time she showed the class a picture of her new pet mouse and everybody thought she was mad.

Hermione knew she was different. She understood the fact, but it bothered her. It bothered her every day when she sat along the wall during recess with a book, quietly eyeing the other kids, hoping that they would invite her to play. It bothered her when she was eyed after a test was handed back and she got the highest grade. It bothered her when nobody called her on the weekend for a play date, or to go see a movie.

But never before did it bother her like this: standing in the corridor by herself with a trunk of clothes and school texts, going to a place she only read about in books, and without any friends.

She felt like crying. Her confidence was leaking out of her feet and leaving her without a drive. Her letter home to her parents was already forming in her mind. She would apologize for making them by all this rubbish for her and ask them for permission to come-

"Can you help me find my toad?"

.

It sounds funny it words but Hermione loved Harry and Ron by the end of the second year. Directly after everyone who had fallen victim to being petrified was healed.

"You solved it! You solved it!" Hermione cried as she ran between the tables to where they sat, eating the feast. She hugged them both before they could react, and then sat down to eat and listen as they hurriedly told her everything that they had done, and how she had greatly helped even without her presentence. They ate the feast, exchanging details and gorging themselves in the marvelous food laid out for them.

Professor Mcgonagall announced that the exams were cancelled in light of recent events, and Gryffindor won the house cup by a long shot. It was a splendid meal for sure, a bonus that no one seemed to have thrown on their school robes so almost every person in the hall was wearing his or her pajamas.

On their way back to the common rooms she hugged them both again for good measure, then skipped happily to bed. She didn't bother changing, just fell into the covers and slept soundly through the other Gryffindor girls all rejoicing in not needing to study anymore for their exams.

But Hermione was far happier than them, and she knew it in her sleep.

Although she wouldn't ever say it out loud, she loved Harry and Ron like her family now. In a way she didn't really need to say it out loud, it was a sort of subconscious mind thing, she supposed. But she also supposed that she really shouldn't over think it too much, or it might just disappear.

Which was good because, seriously. Where would she be without Harry Potter and Ron Weasley?

Hermione's fourth love was Ron Weasley. The love kind of blossomed in a funny way. After a few years of on-again-off-again liking the young man he suddenly started doing things right for a change. Then again, even then he didn't do things perfectly.

But she liked that. She loved that.

The wizarding war was a launch pad for their romance, kicking it off the friend shelf and onto the dating one. Much to the rest of the Weasley family's and Harry's annoyance it became very hard to stay in the room with the two, whether them bickering or otherwise.

None the less Hermione and Ron were married at the ripe young age of 22 and had two children before age 27. Something Hermione feels was rushed, but would never take back. She fell in love with her children the second she discovered their existence. Rose and Hugo were her fifth and sixth loves, in a mother to child way.

Anyway.

They had dropped Rose and Hugo off at the Burrow so that they could catch a movie and just relax together. On the ride to the theater it wasn't discussed what movie they would attend, but what they had to do after the movie, such as the grocery list that still needed to be made, or who would be driving who to school and picking up, and some other mundane things. They hadn't anticipated what a challenge deciding on a title would be.

"So what movie do you want to see?" Ron asked while craning his neck to see the flashing movie board. He had made a show of taking in the popcorn air that surrounded them, and was now being watched curiously by a few of the muggles in the ticket line behind them, which made Hermione laugh. He just ignored them.

"I think we should see Inception," Hermione answered, before they moved up a spot in line.

Ron gave her a look. "Hermione, my brain will hurt if I see that."

"All the better," Hermione said, then stepped up to the muggle teenager who sat behind the ticket dispenser, "Two for Inception please."

"Wait, hold on!" Ron said, "'Mione, I want to see a comedy. Not something school related."

"It's not school related, Ron. Just because it involves thinking a little doesn't make it school related," Hermione said in frustration. She turned to the waiting teenager, and stated plainly, "Inception."

"Nope. I'm paying for tickets, I choose the movie." Ron said, puffing out his chest.

Now the muggles were eyeing them.

Hermione glared at him for a long and tense moment, until the muggles behind them got tired of the free show and started complaining. She turned on her heel back to the bored looking teenager and said, "One ticket for Inception."

Ron deflated beside her. He stared at her as she paid for her ticket and walked away to the popcorn stand. He turned to the teenager and grudgingly asked for a ticket to Inception.

Hermione was smirking when Ron joined her in the popcorn line. He grumbled and ordered them food, snapping at the girl when she recited the order wrong. Hermione stepped on his foot for it, and politely thanked the girl when she handed them their drinks and popcorn.

The two went into the theater with Hermione in the lead. They sat near the top in the corner for lack of better seats, and snickered quietly at the awkward teenagers to their right.

About half way through the movie Ron finished the popcorn and got bored. He decided to start whispered commentary about the teenager's to the right.

"The guy's name is Slumdog, okay?" He started, hiding his mouth under his palm and directing his voice for only his wife to hear, "And her name is Luna. Because of the ridiculous glasses-"

"Ronald!" she hissed, "People are paying to watch the movie not listen to your moronic claims from the peanut gallery."

"Fine." Ron said, slumping in his seat. The silence from Ron was short lived when he sat up and said under his palm to Hermione, "Slumdog is going for it."

Against her will Hermione discreetly looked to her right out of her peripheral vision at the pair. Slumdog was indeed pretending to yawn and stretch.

"His arms are up, and by the look on Luna's face, he forgot deodorant." Ron muttered, "And he's lowering them and-yes she accepts the pass, but-oh she hasn't moved any closer to him, not a good signal if Slumdog is looking for a sign of what tonight's actives may hold- oof! Ow!"

"Shut up, Ron." She hissed quietly, and shot a glance to her right to insure that the teens hadn't heard. She scowled at him in the darkness of the room, "As I remember you weren't very good with such things at his age, now were you?"

He shrugged, a lazy grin gracing his features. "No, I guess not. I vaguely remember you saying something about me resembling a tablespoon."

"And recent behavior proves that nothing has changed." She muttered, and then turned her eyes to focus them again on the movie.

There was a good amount of time that passed where Hermione was peacefully watching the movie. Admittedly she didn't find it to suit her liking for some reason, so she had to stop herself from almost smiling when Ron said:

"Holy crap he's going for a kiss."

Her eyes shot right and watched as Slumdog awkwardly tried to move the girl closer to him and then with painfully uncomfortable and nervous movements attempted to kiss her.

The girl shot up out of her seat and grabbed Hermione's drink. In a swift action she ripped off the plastic lid and dumped the contents of the soda on Slumdog's head. The girl mumbled sorry to Hermione, before stalking away not minding the dozens of eyes following her steps.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a blank look. They looked at Slumdog briefly, then back to each other and simultaneously started laughing. The people surrounding them followed and soon the entire right corner of the theater was in peals of laughter.

The boy got up and rushed out of the theater somewhere between when the laughing started and when it ended, but the couple didn't see him leave, which only brought on a reprise fit of giggles long after everybody else finished and returned to the movie.

.

"How was the show, dears?" Molly asked as she handed Hugo to Hermione and lead Rose to her father.

"It was entertaining," Hermione answered cheerfully, as she shifted Hugo from her left hip to her right.

"Wonderful." Molly smiled, "Well, I'm glad you two spent time together with only the two of you." The woman talked and conducted the cleaning of the dishes with her wand at the same time, something Hermione was learning to be very helpful if the dishwasher was occupied. She looked at the family with old eyes and asked before they left to floo home, "What did you see?"

"A comedy," Ron called over his shoulder while sending Hermione a smirk, which she returned with a roll of the eyes and a concealed smile.

In years to come Hermione would look back to her first love (what was his name...? Carl) and she would wonder how in the world she had ever mistaken that boy for a love. And then she would think about how she had come to think so. Some rubbish book told her a stupid lie about the number four, she thought

As Hermione handed the woman her credit card to pay for the groceries, she finished counting what she assumed she had had as loves in her life.

She froze.

No.

That was a stupid thought. So she didn't even bother wasting time on it.

Well I liked the ending. I liked the thing as a whole. I would normally blame the character flukes on this being the first time I had written Harry Potter, but I don't think that's really accurate.

*shrugs*

I had fun writing this, even though I'm pretty sure it was a little summarized-ish-y. I should probably have gone further into detail at times to keep it flowing nicely. But what the hey.

Review if you've got the time or just want to tell me I killed your fav character. Everything's welcome.