Author's Note: Hello! I wanted to make something kind of like this, and I figured: Hey, who better than Hermione and Ron? So, this is just a little story I cooked up. Hope you like it. Please review! .

The warm April air spilled through the open window, rustling his hair lightly. He closed his eyes as he listening to the constant droning of Professor Binns. He wanted to fall asleep right there, but knew better of it, seeing to exams weren't so far off. He reopened his eyes, the bright sun's rays filled his eyes. He slowly took out a notebook from his bag. He opened it, the smell of the crisp pages meeting his nostrils. He looked around to make sure no one was going to read over his shoulder. Harry had fallen into a deep sleep over his book and Hermione was looking intently up at Professor Binns, jotting down enormous amounts of notes. He dipped his feather tip into his thick, black ink. He started to write in the notebook, starting out easy, but soon his hand was making quick movements across the page.

As he wrote, he eyes narrowed as he thought, looking up occasionally. He was probably being the most active person in class, besides Hermione of course, whom was writing just as rapidly. The bell finally rang, and everyone put their things away, rushing out of the room for the freedom of the afternoon.

"Ron." Someone prodded him in the back.

"Hmm?" He said dreamily, still jotting things in the notebook.

"Um, the class is over." Hermione said, he suddenly twitched. "Hey, what are you writing anyway?"

"N-nothing..." He stuttered, clumsily putting his things away, hiding the notebook's contents. She eyed him strangely.

"Alright. Well, let's go. Wake Harry up." Hermione said bossily and flipped her hair slightly. Ron turned in his chair and jabbed Harry sharply in the ribs.

"What... No... I didn't want marmalade on my pudding..." Harry said, eyes still closed. He let out a soft snore.

"Harry!" Ron yelled, slamming a book onto the table. Harry jerked up.

"What?"

"Class is over."

"Oh."

"Yeah, let's go." Ron and Hermione waited as Harry put all of his things away. He finally got up and pushed his chair in. They made their way back to the Gryfindor common room, dumping their things off.

"What do you guys want to do?" Harry yawned as they gathered back in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Library?" Hermione suggested. Harry and Ron looked at her with wide eyes. "What? The exams aren't so far off..." She muttered.

"Oh, man, I don't want to have to worry about that right now. It's a nice Friday afternoon... let's go out onto the grounds or something." Ron said wearily.

"Sounds good to me..." Harry's voice faded as he looked out a window.

"I'm not so sure that a good idea." Hermione objected.

"So, one day of relaxation instead of cramming my already full, and tired, brain... isn't a good idea?" Ron asked slowly.

"When you put it that way, you make it seem like a crime to study at all." Hermione replied, slightly annoyed.

"Well, it's a crime to study to much and not letting yourself get enough rest. That is called stress. At least I think so anyway."

"Guys, let me ask you something for a moment, does it matter? Hermione, you can go to the library if you want. Ron, you can relax if you want. Ta da!" Harry pointed out.

"That's the most sense I've heard in the last half an hour." Hermione said plainly. "I think I will go to the library. With out you." She shot Ron a hardly noticeable glare and glided past him. But as she went past Ron, he slipped something into her bag, unseen by her or Harry. He flashed a look of sheer disappointment after her, but followed Harry as he headed toward the Entrance Hall.

Hermione gasped slightly as she finally set her bag on a table in the library. She could feel a bead of sweat trickle down her back. It was rather hot in the library today, and it didn't help that Hermione was carrying around so many books. Most of them were just for extra reading, since she didn't take so many subjects anymore. She started pulling out her books, ink, and parchment. When she had pulled out a pile of parchment, a folded piece fell onto the table. Curious, she picked it up, unfolding it. Inside was what looked like a poem. She began to read.

Last night I had a dream about you,
It wasn't complicated, but it wasn't bad.
I'm not sure what to do,
I know this is cheesy, an over-used fad.

But I'll still write this to you anyway,
I'll write about how wonderful you smell.
I'll write about how I love to look at you everyday,
And I'll smile at the fact that you can't tell.

I may not be that great with these words of mine,
But I am still going to write this.
Because I want to tell you how I think you are fine,
And that you are a sight I cannot miss.

There is just one thing above all I want to say:
Girl, let me love you.

I may not know how you feel,
But I can't wait, I need to tell you now.
So, make me a simple deal,
And just please, tell me now.

So long I've waited,
And so long I've felt the pain.
To long have I felt jaded,
And it just clings to me, like a stubborn stain.

I've loved you for as long as I know,
And I couldn't think of any other way to tell you this.
I never want to let you go,
And I've always longed for your kiss.

There is just one thing above all I want to say:
Girl, let me love you.

I wish I could tell you just how wonderful you are,
And even though I can be awful, I've never wanted to make you mad.
You always shine brightly, like a vivid night star,
Even when you are sad.

I know how you love to read things over, more than twice,
But have you ever read me? Given me more than a quick glance?
So, if you'll let me, can I give you some advice,
And give me at least one chance.

I really do love everything about you, to me you have no flaw,
So what else am I to do?
Even though you've stripped my heart raw,
What else am I to do... but keep on loving you?

So, Girl, you've heard me out.
Now I only have one last thing to say:
Girl, let me love you.

As Hermione finished reading, she realized how fast her heart was beating. She felt even hotter than before, holding the piece of paper in her hand. Her hand shook slightly as she scanned the poem over again. Who? But, she was fooling herself. She knew who's messy scrawl that was. She leaned back in her chair, letting her hair fall over the edge. Hermione was smiling as she lifted her arm up. The sleeve of her robe on her left arm slid down, and clearly printed on her skin in purple ink were a few words: Boy, let me love you.