Disclaimer: All that stuff down there belongs to J.K. Rowling...
I don't know when I fell in love with Hermione Granger. I'm fairly sure it wasn't when I first saw her. She didn't make much of an impression on me then; she was a big head of bushy hair with a tiny body accompanying it. So it wasn't love at first sight. I didn't fall in love with her in class, because she pretty much annoyed the hell out of me then, with her hand always waving around wildly like she would die if she didn't get to share her vast amount of knowledge with the rest of the class. It wasn't that time in third year when she punched me in the face. That bloody hurt, and I had to go around for the next week or so with a huge, discoloured bruise on my face and it sure as hell didn't help that I got beaten up by a girl. The Slytherins taunted me with that for years. And I know that I didn't just wake up one day and go, oh, I'm in love with Granger from Gryffindor and I don't care that she's a muggleborn and she's best friends with Potty and Weasel and my father will kill me if he finds out. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that she kind of grew on me, until I couldn't help but love her.
Suddenly I found her upturned nose cute instead of snobby, and her bushy hair unique instead of hilariously unattractive and her small frame made me want to protect her instead of trying to make her cry.
I was impressed with how intelligent she was and I found myself trying to keep my composure when Snape would snarl at her, take points of from her house and leave her disheartened and upset. Stupid Snape, he really makes a terrible head of house. I'd rather confide in my father than him, and that's saying something, because if he knew half the things I thought I'd be dead before I could say "I love Granger,". Unless he took the time to crucio me first, of course. Anyway, instead of getting irritated when she raised her hand in class, I would wonder how she knew so bloody much, and just how much she knew about me.
Whenever I would taunt Weasley and that stupid Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-My-Life-Hell, she would step in and defend them and then I'd have to do the same for her, but then I'd admire her spunk, the way she never backed down from a challenge and rarely showed just how much my comments hurt her. I hope they didn't hurt her much, but I can't imagine she'd be able to ignore them completely. She'd probably wait till she was alone, then break down each insult and systematically go about proving them wrong as well as coming up with something to say to me when I used them again. I can never say the same thing twice, because she can always prove me wrong and she did, for a while, before I realized it. Now I can only make the same comment once.
I always tried to hide my love. I'm still doing it, even right now as I'm pouring out my thoughts. I'm sitting at the Slytherin table, facing her, and I'm pretending like I'm staring off into space even though I'm completely focused on her. She's talking to Weasley and Potter and I wish they would just go away, so that I could be the one who she smiles at. She's always looked at me with such hatred, and it kills me, becase I wish that I could make her laugh, instead, even if it was just once.
Her laugh is a beautiful thing, you know. It's not simpering, like Parkinson's. It's obvious that Pansy's practised her laugh, to try and make it as feminine as possible. It's not even a laugh, really. It's a giggle. I don't think I've ever heard Pansy chuckle, or guffaw, or anything other than a high pitched, fake-sounding giggle. It's not like Millicent's either. I wouldn't be suprised if Bulstrode turned out to be a bloody poofter dressed as a girl, although I'd be rather disgusted. I'd had to take her as a date to a Christmas ball once with Pansy was suffering from a mild case of acne and refused to show her face, while Daphne Greengrass agreed to go with Zabini, the bloody idiot.
But Hermione - her laugh is wonderful. It's rich and free and she just throws her head back in reckless abandon and she makes me wish I could laugh with her. I can't, of course, because my father had to go and make sure I got sorted into Slytherin, of all houses. And she just had to go and become a sodding Gryffindor, so of course she hates me now. I suppose she has a reason to; after all, I have insulted her for the past six years or so. Still, you'd think that with all that overflowing intelligence she'd have figured out that I didn't mean it like I used to.
She'll figure it out eventually, though. I've seen her give me suspicious looks sometimes. Eventually Hermione will get curious enough, and then she'll barricade herself in the library and bury herself in books until she figures it out. I don't know if there are any books that documents the way a guy acts when they love you and try to hide it, but if there is one, I'd be willing to bet a hell of a lot that Hermione will find it.
Even if there isn't one, she has Brown and Patil, doesn't she? Those stupid Gryffindor girls who can't think much beyond the actions of the various guys in their year. Yeah, once she asks them, they'll tell her for sure. I hope it doesn't take too long for her to go to them; it's hard, having her so oblivious to my feelings.
I can wait, though. As long as it takes, I'll wait for her.
AN: Um. I was bored in English class, and we were doing some creative writing thing, so I wrote this. Uhhh...it's unedited, so...don't be too harsh?