My favorite color is red

This is a piece of fun, which was written during a double geography class on rocks, I mean how much can you learn about stones anyway? Well this was also thanks to, apart from Sr. Mary my teacher, my friend Laura that sits beside me, who agreed to beta read it during our next class which was French.

Disclaimer: Hmm, if I owned these do you really think I put them into such bizarre situations? Well anyway just to assure everyone, plus the lawyers, I don't.

Please review after you have finished this fic, I hope you will enjoy another of Californian Poppy's flights through the magical world of HP.

In Which Hermione has a conversation with herself,

And realizes that yourself is not always the best company.

My favorite color is red. Most people find this surprising, figuring me as a light blue, or at least a yellow. But most people are often wrong. I love reds, dark, and deep, which speak of hidden wealth. That is why I think our dorm room is fantastic. The beds are draped in lush poppy velvet, the carpet, a deep brick Of course Lavender and Parvati loathed it the moment they set eyes on it. This encouraged them, to spend what little time they actually used in the library, on looking up color changing spells. Of course they begged me to help, knowing I had already memorized the charm. But my refusal was without cause and in their third year they managed it, baby pink, and light violet, its almost enough to make you sick.

I can hear them now, whispering and giggling, trying to decide who's better looking, Dean or Seamus. Harry used to be the main topic, but now they seem to assume him my property, Merlin knows why.

Well Merlin might not know, but I think you do.

Stop interrupting my thoughts, between you and them I never get a moments peace. God I wish they'd shut up, although it will be fun to tell Harry and Ron that, "Seamus is gorgeous 'cause of his muscles, but Dean is dreamy with his long hair," but knowing Ron he'd probably ask what I thought, sheesh, he's so paranoid.

Hmm, a negative point in your otherwise "Fairytale" relationship.

Did I tell you to shut up? I like the ruffles on my canopy, they remind me of the way the wind makes the grass go on the Quidditch pitch, or the way Harry's hair lays before he gets a chance to comb it.

Well you appear to notice little details about him, always the start of a crush.

How could I have a crush on any one else, I'm in love with Ron, he's my boyfriend, my boyfriend, and the love of my life, why would I search for another?

Because you do love him, because you yearn for him, because every time you get off with Ron, you're really thinking of Harry.

Nonsense, I think I know my own heart, Ron and I are made for each other, we always agree on things now, and we never fight, and are even able to finish each other's sentences.

Wonderful, but that's the point, Ron is too boring, too easy to read, but Harry, he's a puzzle, a closed book, and you could never resist a closed book.

Shut up, I don't need this Ron and I are together and that's it, I like Harry but only as a friend, besides he's the one that got us together in the first place.

Fine whatever you like to believe.

God this bed is so hot; the common room would probably be cooler. Tiptoe past Lavender and Parvati, "I wonder if dean will ask me out?". Open the door, quietly, and out. Watch that creaky step, and jump the last one, there. Huh, who's that?

Well why don't you find out? God do I have to do everything?

Shut up. Oh look is that Harry?

Oooh, do I sense a hint of excitement?

Didn't I tell you to shut it? Listen, I think he's crying. Here, yes he is, there's tears running down his cheeks. How long do you think he's been down here, should I go to him?

No.

Why? Just look at him.

Exactly look, if you show that you know he's been crying it'll knock down al those protective barriers that he has built around himself. The only way this would seem right is if you confessed to liking him.

Is that all you think about? Well I don't care. I can't just stand here and watch this.

Fine, destroy your friendship, just don't blame me

Fine. Ok walk slowly so as not to upset him, sit down gently. Call to him. Ok, just hug him back. Comfort him, stroke his hair. Wait, what did he call you? Mum…..he's still asleep. Come on, Harry, good boy, god look at him, if Reeta Skeeter could see him now, he looks like a child. Let him lie on the bed, now tuck the covers around him. Ok, hmm, now what?

Why not sing him a lullaby, since he's acting like such a baby.

He had a nightmare, still, that might be the brightest idea you've had all night.

Let's not forget who's the brains in this outfit.

Humph. Now let's see, lullaby, lullaby, oh I know….

Hey Harry, don't be sad,

Take a sad song, and make it better,

Remember to let me into your heart,

Then you can start to make it better.

Gaak, well at least it got old, "Green as a pickled toad" here asleep. Hey wait, what are you doing, god herm didn't know you had it in ya!

It was only on the cheek.

Sure, wait, just wipe that silly grin off your mush, don't pretend your not.

Shut up. I want to get some sleep.

You're still grinning!

Okay now all you need is to review and your outa here!