Cinnamon Girl
Harry knew he shouldn't be in this room. He knew that it was wrong, but there was a desire within him that needed to be satisfied. What caused that desire was something he was unsure of. He knew Hermione, had known her for seven years. Yet, there was a small part of him that felt he didn't really know her. Was this the most appropriate way for him to go about his learning? She was out on her rounds, one of the duties that went along with being Head Girl. For the first time that year, he was thankful he hadn't made Head Boy. He noticed Crookshanks curled up on the bed, sleeping soundly. He wanted to keep it that way, so he stayed as quiet as possible.
Clutching his invisibility cloak under one arm, he fumbled through her belongings, making sure not to mess up the items. She would certainly notice if anything was out of place. He'd been in the room many times before for late night studying or the normal chit chat visits, but never really explored the surroundings. Glancing around, he noted the many books that encompassed the space, knowing that she likely had even more hidden away. It hit him that she was a bit like the many closed books currently in his sight. He knew that she was a faithful and trusted friend, willing to sacrifice almost anything for those she loved. If there was a battle to be fought, she was one of the first by his side. Yes, someone he could trust, she definitely was. At the moment, he knew he couldn't say the same about himself. Never mind those thoughts. He was already in the room, might as well finish what he started.
He looked around again, searching for something new; something he had not bothered to pay attention to before. That's when he noticed a wooden box on her dresser. Stepping closer, he saw that the lid was beautifully etched with hearts and swirls. Hermione put up a tough front, but it was things like this that reminded him just how delicate she could be. He edged his hand closer to the lid, mentally smacking himself but knowing that his desire to know more needed fulfilling. Once the lid was lifted, there was no turning back, no denying the site before his very eyes. For inside this box seemed to be trapped a hidden compartment that led straight to her most secretive of places. His eyes studied it all carefully, from the tiny golden lapel pin that stated "I Seekers" to a sticker that proclaimed "Quidditch Boys Rock!" He then noticed the top compartment lifted up to reveal a stack of envelopes underneath, rubber banded neatly. Apprehensively, he picked them up and flipped thru them. Every single envelope was from him, from when they had written each other over the summer. From the thickness of the stack, he'd guessed it was every letter he had ever sent her. Looking down again, he noticed a miniature broom stick; a miniature Firebolt to be exact. The longer he allowed it to sink in, the more he realized that this wasn't just any box. This seemed to be a box containing representations of him. A small smile played upon his lips, realizing how this secret she kept made him feel. But his eyes suddenly widened; knowing he should not be doing this, knowing that she would probably return any minute. He quickly placed the envelopes back in the box, put the top compartment into place and closed the lid. Without warning, he heard footsteps approaching. Within seconds, he placed the cloak over his head and backed himself up against the wall. He'd be okay. All he needed to do was stand there and wait; wait until she went to sleep and then quietly sneak out. She'd never know he was there.
Hermione quietly opened her door and let out a heavy sigh. It had been a long day of studying companied with Head Girl duties and she was ready to relax. She quickly flicked her wand and forcefully whispered, "Silencio!" She loved having her own room this year, allowing her to let go and be free at the end of the day. She knew there was studying to do, but she just wanted to leave her mind be for a while. Her brain was constantly working, consistently trying to figure out some problem (academic or personal) and it needed to rest. No one knew of the small wild streak that lay within Hermione Granger. In fact, nobody would believe it. She was the type of witch who normally played by the rules. True, she had begun to break the rules a little starting in their fifth year at Hogwarts, but not nearly enough to show what she could really be capable of. She placed her wand on the bed and stepped in front of the full-length mirror. She allowed her hands to caress her face, her neck, run slowly down her shirt, then stopping at her hips. She had to admit that she was quite pleased with how she was developing. Gone were the days of bushy hair, being replaced by controlled curls. She really no longer cared to have her skirt practically reach her knees, longing for a shorter look. Could she get in trouble for shortening her skirts? She'd have to research that one. She loved how her tie no longer laid flat against her chest, having to now conform to the curves of her breasts.
Without another thought, she reached down beside her trunk and pulled up a small CD player. She took off her shoes, stretching her toes before beginning the task at hand. Pressing play, she allowed herself to divulge in her weekly relaxation ritual.