I wrote this a while ago for my friend Jordan (who, like Ron, can't take a hint!)

I've FINALLY got round to proof reading this, but forgive me if there are still some typos

I don't own Harry Potter

Enjoy!

I was sitting in an armchair in the library writing my Transfiguration essay, when I heard someone sit down in the chair opposite me. Without stopping writing, I looked up to see a small, plump first year girl with dark skin and long, black, curly hair. I didn't say anything, but I could feel her eye on me and I turned back to my work. Glancing up again, I saw that she was watching me, her chin resting on her hand.

I put my quill down and sat up. "Yes?"

"You're Hermione Granger, aren't you," she said.

"Yes,"

"You know Ron Weasley, don't you?"

"Yes," I replied, "Why?"

The girl grinned, "Do you think he's cute?"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Why….?"

"Do you think he's cute?" she repeated.

"No," I answered, which was a lie, but I wasn't going to go around telling first-year girls that I thought my best friend was cute.

"I think he's cute," said the girl.

"WHAT?" I spluttered.

"He is," she enthused, "His eyes and his hair and the way his ears go red when he's embarrassed, it's all so cute!"

What, I thought, I thought I was the only person who thought that about him. I thought it was only me who daydreamed about his red hair and his blue eyes!

"What are you, eleven?" I said, frustrated, "Ron is nearly sixteen. Do you think you have any chance with him at all?"

"I'm nearly twelve," said the first-year girl, "And Ron's birthday's only in March, that's three months away!"

"How on Earth do you know when his birthday is?" I exclaimed, "Actually, I don't want to know. Listen to me- you have no chance with him whatsoever,"

"I might do," grinned the girl, "he smiled at me in the corridor last week,"

I laughed scornfully. "That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard,"

"The first-year stuck her tongue out at me and said, "Only 'cos you like him,".

"I do not!" I said, a little too quickly, and in a tone that was rather too sharp.

"Ha! You do! Otherwise you wouldn't have gotten so defensive about it,"

"I do not like Ron," I said exasperatedly, "He's… irritating and stupid and he says the most thoughtless things". But he does make me laugh, I added in my mind, and he's not stupid and irritating all the time. Sometimes he's really quite sweet.

I felt my face go red, and this did not escape the eyes of the first-year.

"You're blushing, you do fancy him, you do!"

"Shut up!" I snapped, "You're pathetic, you know that?"

"Hermione and Ron, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-"

Just then, the library door swung open and who should appear but the very boy we had been discussing. The first year girl immediately fell silent and I bent back over my essay and started writing like my life depended on it.

"Alright, mate?" asked Ron as he sat down in the chair next to the first-year girl. I didn't look up but I could feel her smiling at me triumphantly.

"Yeah," I said quickly, "How was Quidditch?"

Ron sighed. "Not too bad, but pretty grim all the same. Angelina's becoming more like Wood every day. Even Fred's getting sick of her. Don't know why she's making us train in this weather,"

"It'll be worth it if you win against Slytherin though, won't it?" I said, "Where's Harry?"

"Dunno, I left before him. He's probably gone back to the common room. Is that Transfiguration you're doing?"

"Yeah,"

"I reckon I might bring mine down here as well, actually,"

"That means, "please Hermione could you finish my essay off for me because I haven't bothered to write a conclusion," doesn't it?" I risked looking up at him for the first time in our conversation. He grinned at me and said

"Well…yeah, basically,"

I smirked at him.

"Go on then, go and get it,"

"Cheers, Hermione. You are my best friend, you know that?"

"Especially when you've got homework to finish,"

"Nah, seriously. I mean it,"

We smiled awkwardly at each other for a moment before Ron muttered something about being back in a minute, stood up, patted me clumsily on the back as he walked past, and left the library.

"Oh my God, how can you deny you fancy him?" started up the first-year as soon as the library door shut behind him.

"Shhh!" I cried, "He'll hear you!"

"Crush crush crush crush crush crush crush! I think he likes you, too, you know,"

"Will you give it a rest?" I hissed, "He doesn't like me and he certainly doesn't like you, so just drop it, OK?"

"Can I come to your wedding? Please! It'd almost be like I was marrying him,"

"Ron and I are not going to get married. Not now, not ever. And if we did, you certainly wouldn't be invited!"

"Fine! Just 'cos you're blind to your true feelings,".

Blind? How was I the one that was blind? I was the one who'd spent the last three years trying to tell him I liked him!

"I'm off," said the first-year irritably, "I'm going to find Dennis Creevey,"

"Don't tell me you fancy him as well?" I said bitterly.

"So what if I do? I bet he's not got any friends who deny they're in love with him,"

She stood up and walked towards the door, and as she neared it, it opened. Ron walked through carrying a piece of parchment, a quill and in ink-pot, and the first-year girl crashed into him and sent the pot of ink flying.

"Sorry," she squeaked.

"Dammit," muttered Ron, "Tergeo,"

The ink disappeared off the carpet and Ron sat down next to me, as the first-year scurried out of the room.

"Blimey!" he said, "These first-years- they're gonna be the death of me!"

Oh Ron, I thought, I only you knew how much!

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