Hermione stared into those emerald green eyes and melted

Hermione stared into those emerald green eyes and melted. She washed over the jades, olives, and aquas that swam before her. She wished to stay, immobilized, in his pupils forever, because that was the only thing that really mattered to her. "Herm?" That gentle, soothing, caressing voice flowed into her, intoxicating her. Instead of replying, Hermione smiled. A dazzling smile, her trademark light-bulb smile, and seeing it made Harry shiver. "Hermione?" He whispered his tone one octave lower. "Yes?" This time she answered, not really caring that she sounded like a seductive slut. "What's the Potions homework?" Harry broke the moment, and cracked a wide grin. Hermione swatted his shoulder playfully. They stood in the Gryffindor Common on a dark February night, discussing-well, just discussing. Won't give that away just yet. Hermione was on the verge of her decision, although she was still apt to make a few changes. She continued to gaze into his eyes, which sparkled and gleamed with a thousand different emotions, each color representing something different. She fell into their safety, and she relished in their depths. She swirled in them, those eyes that had dragged her willingly past reason and expectation, those eyes that she adored. She felt that time elapsed when he was near. She stiffened her resolve. "Harry, I choose you." Harry blinked wonderingly for a few moments, probably thinking along the lines of 'Pikachu, I choose you', though Hermione couldn't be sure. She searched Harry's face for any sign of emotion, and than it lit up with recognition. "Oh! Yes, Hermione. Yes." Hermione hugged him fiercely, glad to have the weight of indecision off her chest. She knew she had made the right choice. Or had she? Late that night Hermione tossed in her bed, sheets soaked with cold sweat. She was having horrible dreams; each haunted by a vision of Ron. Each time she could her herself screaming, perhaps aloud, perhaps in her mind, "No! I love Harry! I do!" And each time she knew she was feeling less and less sure of this fact, as the grains of sand and love that she cupped so preciously fell inevitably through her fingers. She awoke, and she had not forgotten her visions. She was sure they meant something, they always did, but did it really mean she was meant to be with Ron? Could she have made the wrong selection, unknowingly? As if to steady herself, when she reached the Great Hall for breakfast, she sat without question on Harry's lap. He didn't object, just looked mildly-and pleasantly-surprised. This made her feel slightly better, maybe because she had longed for his touch for years. Soon afterward, however, the two of them, along with the rest of the students in the hall, had to head towards the morning lesson. Hermione hung protectively on Harry's arm, which comforted her. Hermione hoped Harry wasn't perturbed. All during Charms, Hermione insisted upon holding Harry's hand, though it made classwork very difficult. There was slight turbulence in paradise after Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon, though Hermione tried and tried to stop it. Cho approached a nervous-looking Harry in the corridor, her black her shining like a raven's feather and her black eyes burning like coals. Hermione shuddered. She gripped Harry's hand reassuringly, and he squeezed back lightly. "Harry, we need to talk." Cho's voice was like a snake slithering over rocks, or silk rustling. She pierced him with those ebony eyes. "Alone." She finished, smirking. "Whatever you have to say to me, I'm sure you can say it in front of my girlfriend." Harry projected the last word, and Hermione was grateful. "That? That is your girlfriend?" Cho said incredulously, her cruel words stinging Hermione. Yet once again Harry came to Hermione's defense. "Well, you used to be my girlfriend, and I figure she's at least a couple steps up from you, so what does that make you?" He retorted, ever calm. Cho was just as collected. "Tut, tut. Having to defend poor a muggle-born, how pathetic." Hermione felt Harry's anger pulsing into her through her palm. "Not as pathetic as you are, insulting someone's bloodline because you have nothing else to belittle." Hermione was amazed at his cool. He raised an eyebrow at Cho, who was now standing hand-on-hip in an oh-so-aggressive manner. She replied, effortlessly. "Oh, is that what you think? Try this on for size. Your so-called 'girlfriend' should be called a 'chipmunkfriend', after all that is what she resembles most." Cho beat Harry down with that stare and the lot of them became unaware of the students milling past them, sometimes crashing into them, in the race to get to dinner. Hermione, who had been silent until then, added her two cents to the conversation. "Anyone can tell that you're only doing this to get Harry back." The spite in her voice shocked her. It was Cho's turn to raise an eyebrow. "So the chipmunk speaks," she said at last, "and yes, I am. I'm going to get him back, too, you chipmunk. You don't stand a chance." She turned on her heel and left. Hermione was shaking, gripping onto Harry's hand as though it were a lifesaver. "Harry," she said meekly, "you don't plan on taking her back-do you?" She glanced at him quickly. "No." Harry's reply was short, and instant. As if to further reassure her, he kissed her on the cheek for only the second time. Hermione moved with lightning speed and caught him on the mouth. They kissed passionately in the middle of the hallway with classmates still rushing about them. Happy, idle chatter surrounded them and the faraway smell of dinner tantalized their nostrils. Still they kissed a kiss that was as hot and fiery as it had begun, some ten minutes ago. When they broke apart Hermione was dizzy. Harry secretly realized that kissing Cho had never made him feel that way. When he kissed Hermione, he was complete. He liked that feeling. He loved Hermione. He told her so, evenly, dipping into her own chestnut pupils, getting his feet wet. She nodded, before murmuring in his ear, "I love you too, Harry." Even before she said it, Harry felt guilt spreading through him. It wasn't as though he still had feelings for Cho, he just-wasn't sure. Hermione was feeling the same, although about Ron. Her mind kept sneaking glances at him. She drove these away and lay her head on Harry's shoulder. Harry could hide away that guiltiness when Hermione was touching him, however. It was an act of nature, he thought, to think guiltily about being with another girl right after a breakup. It wasn't as though he wanted Cho back. He couldn't do that. Not to himself, to Hermione, even to Cho. He couldn't help this bit of remorse, although he wasn't quite sure why. It was a preposterous idea that he may be wishing he had seized the chance of getting back with Cho. He didn't even like Cho. True, he liked her looks. He loved everything about Hermione. On the other hand, Hermione was questioning her faith in Harry not leaving her for Cho. He had seemed like he would stay with Hermione when Cho was there, but after she had left? Hermione was almost positive she felt a hint of regret in Harry's kisses. She wanted him to love her, and only her, and she loved him. And only-she stopped herself. Did she only love him? Did she even really love him at all, or did her heart belong to Ron? She couldn't decide. She shook her head viciously and scolded herself. Of course she loved Harry! Had she not told herself that for five years? Had she not spent many a restless night thinking about him, yearning for him, longing for him? Had she not went out of her way to be horrified when Harry had begun dating Cho? She could make no sense of it. Head or tail of her newly found feelings. God, she wasn't even sure of whom she wanted to be dating! It was all a terrible mess. Hermione could feel, however, the tangled web of emotions following her all the rest of the night, plaguing her. She pushed them aside forcefully as she fell into a troubled sleep.