I'm Hermione Granger. Some people might describe me as the best witch in my year, a title I don't think is necessary. I've been called Harry Potter's best friend, that Muggle-born the Boy-Who-Lived keeps around, and mudblood. I've never been known as more than just those labels. Harry's had it worse. The Boy-Who-Lived, Heir of Slytherin, the Boy-Who-Lied, fraud, cheat, the list goes on. These titles aren't Harry. I know Harry. Harry's shy, modest, embarrassed, reclusive, and loving. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and you can tell what he's thinking all the time. Harry makes people smile with his childlike curiosity. Sometimes that curiosity almost breaks my heart.

Third year, for example. We were sitting in the common room, all three of us. There was a couple cuddling on the couch and Harry would glance toward them occasionally, with this look. It was a shy, curious, and sad kind of look. Then he asked, "Hermione, what are they doing?"

I looked at the couple, then back at Harry. He was serious. I couldn't believe it; he had to know what cuddling was. So, I said, "They're cuddling, Harry?"

He nodded and looked at his hands. He looked slightly confused. Then he looked at them again and then back at me, "What… Why?"

I bit my lip. Ron had stopped and was listening. Unfortunately, he said, "What do you mean 'why'? They're just cuddling! You've done that before haven't you?"

Harry's eyes tightened as he glared at Ron. "No, I haven't."

He was about to leave, but I grabbed his hand as he passed. I pulled him down into the arm chair I was sitting on and leaned into him. For good measure, I pulled one of his arms around my shoulders. I sighed trying to get through the embarrassment of sitting in the same chair as Harry and said, "People cuddle as a way to show affection… um…" I paused looking at my lap, and cleared my throat. "It's not strictly for… romantic purposes. Um… parents and children, other realities, um… friends, I guess."

My hands were shaking and I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Harry was frowning, trying to figure something out. Harry's hand grabbed one of mine and he said, "I… I'm not used to touching people… I've learned… not to like it." He trailed off and relaxed into the chair, making me smile. ,

That was the beginning of whatever this is the he and I have. During fourth year, there weren't many of those moments, but this year… Harry needs someone, and I guess he made that me. He's my best friend, and I would do anything for him. If that means he wants to cuddle at random times then so be it. Like now for example…

Harry's just pulled me half into his lap, so one of my legs is over one of his. He grabs my hand and rests both our hands on top of my leg. He sighs and as I look at him I know he's exhausted. He yawns and rests his forehead on my shoulder and asks me, "Have you ever wanted to do something spontaneous? Like, you don't even know what it is you just want to do it…"

I laugh softly, with my face buried halfway in his hair, and say, "I don't know…"

He takes a deep breath and says half laughing, "I want to jump off of the Astronomy Tower."

I blink, "What?" I pull back and look at him. Did he just…

He pulls me closer so his chin is resting on my shoulder and one of his arms is around my waist. "With a broom, 'Mione. I wouldn't throw myself off the Astronomy Tower like that."

I smile and lean my head against his. "You better not, Potter…" He chuckles and I notice that he laughs longer than he usually would. "You need sleep… you really do, Harry. This is unhealthy."

"I know…" he sighs. "Do you mind?"

I turn my head to look at him, "Mind what?"

"If I just fall asleep on you…" he whispers.

He's so tired and I don't have the heart to say no. "Of course not." He falls asleep just like that. I just sit here remembering that day in third year when I told him why people cuddle. He's innocent, childlike, curious, and loving. Sometimes I wonder if that loving, curious look in his eye is ever directed at me… A small part of me is afraid of the possibility that it is.