Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters/places/etc. Everything is J.K. Rowling's.
She spends every day looking at the back of his perfectly coiffed blonde head in class, grateful for her conveniently located seat.
She wonders how it's possible to feel this much for one person.
She imagines hugging him, nesting her head in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of laundry detergent, oh-so-familiar from the last time they brewed Amortentia in Potions. She remembers her face heating up as she realized whose smell it had to be.
She loses herself in daydreams about doing cheesy couple things together, holding hands while strolling through Hogsmeade, spending lazy afternoons lying by the lake.
She listens to his worries and his insecurities, and is grateful that she at least has a place by his side, but finds it harder and harder to settle for being a friend. He tells her how he worries that his girlfriend doesn't like him as much as he does her, and she stubbornly forces the lump in her throat to go away. They carry on their quiet friendship over late afternoons spent studying together in the library, and she always tells herself she won't go the next time. It's never true.
She searches for why the universe would let her feel this way for someone who will never feel the same.
She sees him holding her hand, hears her laugh at his jokes, watches him wrap his arms around her, and it kills her inside.
She compares everything about herself to everything about her, wondering whether it's because she's not skinny enough, or not pretty enough. She's fixed her teeth and tamed her hair, even tried learning how to apply makeup, but she'll never look like that.
She hears the rumor of their breakup, and dares to let her hopes rise for a couple days until she sees them together again, and she firmly resolves to never let it happen again.
She watches her friends fall in love and start dating, and awkwardly fends off their questions about who she likes. There isn't anyone, she says over and over again, like a mantra, hoping that if she says it enough times she'll come to believe it as well.
She's Hermione Granger, after all. She's the top in her year, and that should be enough for her- it always was before. But now, she finds herself spending precious class time spacing out and fantasizing about the relationship she can only dream of.
Finally, it's the last day of their seventh year. They're at graduation, everyone's laughing and cheering and crying. She's so glad to finally not have to watch them together every day, but at the same time she can't stand the thought of never seeing him again. And of course she starts getting choked up right when he sees her and walks over, waving and smiling. "Granger, we did it!" She manages a smile and excuses herself, scarcely registering her own words. He didn't notice, right? It's Malfoy, when has he ever noticed anything?
"Granger, wait up. Are you okay? A-are you crying?" She feels a tug on her robes, turns around, smiles through blurry eyes. She reassures him that she's fine, that there's just something in her eye.
Finally, she shakes him off, and finds a secluded bench, conveniently situated by a tree she can hide behind. She lets loose then, not caring that her mascara is smudging or that her nose is running. She's just now allowing the weight of three years of unrequited love to make its presence felt, and it really takes its toll. She cries as she's never cried before, not even after she got that one Exceeds Expectations in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She cries for a love that warmed her up but burned her from the inside. She cries for a friendship that was never what she wanted it to be. She cries for three years of heartache and for the ones to come. She cries in anger at the unfairness of the world- if she had to have a one-sided crush, why couldn't it at least have been short-lived? Why did it develop into love, why did it last this long, why did it have to be Malfoy?
Suddenly, she finds herself wrapped in strong, warm arms. She fights but in vain, and truth be told, it feels so good to be held so tightly. She allows herself to hope for a split second but knows, she just knows that it's Harry or Ron, probably Harry- he was always the more perceptive of the two. Slowly, she calms down.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" That- that isn't Harry's voice, or Ron's voice, either. She recognizes that voice all too well, but it can't be him, because he's never called her by her name before.
She takes a deep breath and the scent of laundry detergent, his scent, hits her hard. Her heart pounding furiously and her cheeks heating up, she looks up, into clear gray eyes.
She has no words, and emotion overwhelms her, so she just wraps her arms around him and hugs him tightly, holding on for what is the first and she knows will be the last time.
Cool hands, soft fingers gently tip her chin upwards ever so slightly. She can feel her hopes rising, as they've done so many times before, and crushes them before they can be crushed again. She looks down at her tear-splattered robes, praying for him to go away before she loses control again.
It takes two or three kisses for her to realize what's happening. He works his way over her tear –stained cheeks, kissing away the tears gently, more gently than she could have thought possible. Her heart is thudding, it is deafening, and she finds herself hoping again, but this time she is unable to stop.
Finally, he kisses away a tear right next to her lips, and she can sense his deliberation, his hesitation.
Reasoning that it's the last time she'll see him and that she has nothing to lose anyway, she does something extremely uncharacteristic and goes in for the kiss. It sends a jolt of electricity all the way down to toes, leaving her insides warm and fuzzy all over. It's unlike anything she's ever felt before, and it feels so good. She senses his momentary surprise before she feels his lips press against hers again, this time less gently.
Finally, after what seems like the shortest, most glorious eternity in the world, they break apart. She is still stunned and does what she does best, working through the facts and trying to put them together towards a rational solution. He doesn't like her, there's no way. What could-
"Hermione, I can literally see the gears turning in your head. Stop, stop. It's okay, love. Everything's going to be okay."
For once in her life, Hermione decides that it's okay if the numbers don't add up. It's okay because everything is okay now that this one thing makes sense, now that they make sense.