I can't deny it anymore. I love Ronald Weasley. What I thought was just a growing friendship, a comfortable closeness, has blossomed inside me. It's now a love, a burning passion that consumes my heart and soul. It's not fair. We were friends – best friends – and now I can't sit still for one minute with the knowledge I have accumulated about myself. I am suddenly waiting for him in the hallways or in the common room till he finishes practice or one of the many adventures he and Harry go on, in which I am rarely included.

As I wait, I think about him. It's all-consuming, and I hate it. "It's just lust" I tell myself. "It's only a little crush and years of pent up sexual frustration. I'm Hermione Granger. Head Girl, smartest student to enter Hogwarts in 50 years and my downfall is a crooked smile, a smattering of freckles and a head of flaming red hair.

That hair…before I realized what I now know, it used to haunt me. The fire ensnared in those tresses danced before my eyes like autumn leaves caught in the wind. For the longest time, I've longed to run my hands through the silken flames, to feel the heat radiate into my fingertips, without really knowing why I would think these things or want these things from a friend.

I'm supposed to be studying for exams, but I find myself staring off into space at the strangest moments. Rereading the same passage over and over again gets redundant and very dull. I know my grades are beginning to slip into an ever-deepening chasm, but for once, I don't really care. What I do care about is that my mind is stuck on one image, one voice, one touch that just won't leave me alone. I shiver when I think of that touch.

Just the fact that I spend so much time with him and am forced to hide my feeli—

"Hey, Hermione! We're back!" Ron yelled as he and Harry walked into the Gryffindor common room after a grueling Quidditch practice. They were both covered in mud and rain, their robes dripping on the plush red carpets.

Hermione yelped and stuffed the parchment she had been writing on underneath her History of Magic notes.

"H-hi guys…how was practice?" she managed to utter, while trying to look innocent without success.

"It was fine." Harry said slowly. "Wet, but fine. Hermione, what's wrong?" Harry dropped his broom and cloak on a nearby table and sat down next to her. Ron followed suit.

"Oh, it's-it's nothing, really. I'm just a little tired after all this studying. I think I'm going to go to bed now." Hermione tried to sound convincing by yawning loudly as she stretched her arms upward. Both Harry and Ron gave their friend incredulous looks as they watched her climb the staircase to her dormitory.

"That was weird." Ron stated as he looked back at the pile of notes sitting on the table. "What's all this?" He picked up the top piece of parchment and read the first couple of lines. "Should've known. Hey Harry, Hermione left her notes down here." Harry looked up from his reclined position with a grin on his face. "Brilliant. Now we don't have to actually ask to borrow her notes." Ron mirrored the grin as they set off copying their best friend's round, but extremely neat handwriting.

It was past midnight by the time Harry and Ron had gotten down to the last page in the large pile and both were struggling to keep their eyes open. Ron grabbed that last sheet and started writing down the words without actually reading them. Harry glanced over his shoulder.

"What in the bloody hell are you writing?"

"What?" Ron asked as he finally read the notes he had been copying down. His face turned twelve shades of red and kept darkening as he read through Hermione's words. Ron, without saying another word, retreated upstairs, parchment still in hand. When Harry followed him to their room a few minutes later, Ron was lying on his bed fully dressed, staring at the canopy with unblinking eyes.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked cautiously. Ron ignored him still staring blindly at the scarlet above his head. Harry gave his friend one last look before climbing into bed himself.

Hermione woke up the next morning, remembering absolutely nothing of the night before and why she had gotten so much sleep. She dressed slowly, humming a song she had heard sometime ago, and almost skipped down the stairs, without any idea why she was so happy.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs. The humming immediately ceased as she looked at the pile of notes and books she had left on the coffee table the night before, suddenly remembering the note hidden beneath everything. Gingerly she looked through the pile for the parchment carrying her biggest secret and bit her lip as she realized it was nowhere to be found. She sat on the floor, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She leaned her head back a bit and hit something pointy. Grabbing in from the table she held it up for inspection. It was her transfiguration textbook. Hermione was about to toss it aside and let her misery unleash itself when something sticking out of the book caught her eye.

It was her letter. Hermione practically squealed in relief as she clutched the parchment to her chest before noticing it was not where she had originally left it. Slowly she unfolded the note. Below her round cursive letters was a different handwriting: messy and loopy. She recognized it immediately, her eyes growing wide as she read the previously unfilled space.

Hermione-

I know this was never meant to be seem by anyone, let alone me, but it happened, so I guess we have to deal with it. The only thing I can think to write is I love you too. I may not have said it as nice or fancy as you did, but it has the same meaning. Please don't be mad at me for reading this. I honestly didn't mean to.

All my love,

Ron

"Well?"

Hermione looked up, startled. It was Ron. His hair wasn't brushed, but he had changed into a clean set of robes and was standing about five feet away nervously fiddling with his wand. She couldn't speak, and tears forced themselves into her eyes.

"Oh Merlin, please don't cry." Ron begged as he lessened the distance between them. Now only a foot away, he took the letter from her hands.

"I didn't mean to make you cry, honest. I'm sorry, really. Plea—" The rest of his words were cut off by Hermione's lips pressing against his own. After the initial shock, he returned the kiss with equal fervor, letting Hermione's hands run through his hair like he knew she wanted to.

And this is how Harry found his two best friends as he descended the stairs on his way to breakfast.

Ok...this was just mindless drivel I wrote because I got bored during one of my classes, in which ther is a very cute red-head who only sees me as a friend. And there's a little insight into my life which you didn't really want to know.

Review for me?