A/N: I know that this sounds like a weird version of Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging. Yeah, I did sort of base it on it, but whatever. Tally ho! Or whatever they say in England.

A/N 2: Wrote this fic about a year ago, as a retarded joke when one of my friends said I couldn't write. I was cleaning out my old files and found this, and decided to post it, just to see if people liked it… heehee. No flames!

7:30 AM- Well, Mum says we're finally here! They have to drop me outside the train station, because they can't go into Platform 9 ¾, for obvious reasons.

I can't believe I'm finally going back to Hogwarts! After a whole three months of practicing magic in the living room and pretending I'm watching the telly whenever my parents come around, I'm going back! Oh, it'll be great. I'll get to do magic as much as I want. And make fun of Ginny behind her back. And hang out in the common room. With… I don't know, I don't really hang out with people other than Harry and Ron and Ginny. But I'll be fine just seeing them. As long as I can look in on a particular platinum blond… well, let's just say, this year is going to be perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

7:41- This year isn't quite so perfect. My rolling luggage broke halfway to the station, and when I fixed it (magically), a family of tourists saw me. It took forever to erase their memories. Or at least it seems like forever, when I'm waiting to see him.

7:53- Okay, let's make it clear. This year bloody sucks. About a million middle-aged guys have stopped and asked me where my mum is. Bloody hell, I'm 17 for crying out loud! Well, almost 17. I still have a month left. At this rate it will take me forever to get to the station.

8:24- This is torture. And bliss. At the same time. I'd barely gotten on the train, when he came straight up to me and asked me to come and sit with him. I stood there, shocked, trying to think of what to say- "I'm so flattered"? "Get the #$ away"?

I let out a strangled, "What?!"

Real smooth, Hermione. You might as well put up a sign on your forehead saying, "I totally love Draco!"

"You know, sit with me?" Draco said, giving me a blank look. "We're the heads. We're supposed to be sitting together in the compartment reserved for heads. The heads compartment."

"Erm, okay," I said, blushing.

I followed him back to the compartment. He kept looking back at me on the way. He probably is already calling me 'Crazy Mudblood'. This year just gets better and better.

It's great. And terrible. He's just inches away from me, and I could just reach over and touch him softly and tell him that I-

No, stop it, Hermione. He'd laugh in your face and tease you forever.

Better and better. Now I'm talking to myself.

8:39- It was getting quite awkward in the compartment, just me and him, so I popped out for a bit to visit Ron and Harry (and Ginny too because she hangs out with us because she can't make any friends because she's a stupid gingerkid). They were stuffing their faces with chocolate frogs as if everything was normal.

Which it isn't.

Because I think that it's possible that Draco fancies me.

A little while ago, he was just staring at me. Then he left the compartment for a while and when he came back he couldn't take his eyes off me.

I snapped at him, "Take a picture, it lasts longer

He took out a camera(I'm surprised he had one, considering he's pureblood) and snapped a shot.

He left again, probably to show his friends the picture.

I'm sure he fancies me.

8:41- He doesn't fancy me.

As I was leaving, Ginny said, "You know your fake eyelashes are falling off, right?"

I think I will die.

8:42- Just got back from the bathroom fixing my eyelashes. Could I really not have noticed for a whole hour?

8:44- Agghh, I'm so stupid. Stupid, stupid Hermione.

8:46- Maybe I'm just… different. Maybe I have some kind of disease where I can answer any question or do any homework, but can't even notice when my eyelashes are falling off. Yes, that's it. And then it can be like one of those sappy movies where the heroine gets a terrible disease and is almost dieing, when with the help of a lung transplant and a hero, a hero with white-blond hair and soft lips and-

Stop it, Hermione. Just stop it.

This talking to myself thing has really got to stop.