Harry Potter has been in love with Hermione Granger for as long as he can remember.
And there is no tragedy greater than that of unrequited love.
Gryffindor Common Room was for once dreadfully quiet. Quiet chit-chat made up little of the background noise, with the gentle crackling of the fire taking prevalence. Not that a certain black-haired boy took notice.
Green eyes stared fitfully into the fire, as the boy in question sipped on a cup of butter beer (courtesy of Fred and George Weasley). His hair was even messier than normal, if it were possible, and he was in his best pair of reindeer adorned pyjamas. He smoothed them out, his mind still taken up with other things.
"Harry James Potter!' A female voice screeched, completely breaking the silence. The chit-chat stopped suddenly as Harry grimaced. Not this again.
"You did NOT leave me out again, did you? I seen Ron! Sneaking about with a bunch of flowers under your cloak" she said, hailing the last part quietly. "I only even seen him because he was in the library. The library of all places, before he put on the cloak! You're not trying to prank some Slytherin, are you?"
Harry rubbed the back of his neck as he stared guiltily off. Good, good, she hadn't realised what they were actually up to. Hopefully, she wouldn't until everything was in place.
That'd be a disaster.
"Er, I have no idea what your on about, Mione. If he is sneaking about, he's acting on his own" he said, completely up for sacrificing his friend to the fierce (and very beautiful) bookworm.
Hermione took a deep breath, sinking down into the chair next to him, confusion written across her face. Her shoulders drooped as she frowned.
"Er, Mione?"
"Sorry, Harry, I was just thinking... you don't think... is Ron seeing someone?" She asked, looking at him with those big sad doe eyes. But why in the world would she think that Ronald Weasley was seeing someone?
Confused, Harry tilted his head and blinked, trying to think. He would be the first to admit he could be a little slow to catch on, especially when levelled by the gaze of a beautiful woman.
"Why would you think that?"
Hermione raised her brows, looking at him seriously.
"Harry. Ron is out after curfew, sneaking about with flowers, which is totally out of character for him. Does that sound, let's say, suspicious to you?"
Harry blushed at his obliviousness.
"Er, maybe he's seeing Lavender again? Who knows, right?" he said with a nervous laugh, watching Hermione droop more and more. Hermione stood up suddenly, her eyes dark.
"Hermione?" Harry asked, watching her freckled forehead crease in frustration and her cute little button nose rise haughtily.
"Don't worry Harry, it's nothing you've done" she said in a calm yet somehow dangerous tone "Ron is just a twat, hmph!" she said, before storming off upstairs. Harry grimaced as the door to the girls door slammed with an almighty bang.
"Hermione..." Harry said weakly, before sighing. Guess tonight wasn't the night then.
A few minutes later, the quiet chit-chat had returned and Harry was contemplating Hermione once again, his green eyes troubled as they started upon the flickering fire. A faint running sound was heard before a bunch of flowers popped out of thin air, falling in his lap. Harry jumped, a little surprised, as Ron quickly shed the invisibility cloak, panting.
"Got here as fast as I could, mate. You ask her out?"
Harry sighed as he looked at the flowers. A small bundle of acacias, conjured using a book in the library.
"It's grand mate, maybe another time" Harry said with the best smile he could muster at that moment.
If only the girl he loved wasn't so hopelessly in love with the boy sitting in front of him.
If only.