Author's Notes: This is a Ron x Hermione fic told from the POV of a Ravenclaw girl ["Clarke, Leia!"] who has a crush on Ron. In this fic the Ravenclaws won't be portrayed as nerds, but as one of those smart-without- trying types, as I've a bit of a soft spot for them. They remind me a lot of my class. A bit sad for the girl, actually, but the point is ultimately the R/H.



He Who Is Not Mine By like a falling star



I see him now, walking into the Great Hall with a bunch of his Griffindor friends. His soft red hair is falling messily into his blue, blue eyes, but it doesn't hide the gleam in them. He looks so beautiful, so comfortable, so relaxed; and I remind myself it's no wonder that I've fallen for him.

Then I notice something amiss. Today, he isn't with that girl. What's her name. Hermione. Hermione Granger. That's right. She's the smartest witch in our year, but I don't like her very much. No, I don't like her at all, because he does. He seems to like her a lot. They're going out, and I've heard that it's serious. She's a bitch. Actually, to be completely fair ["fair Ravenclaw", says the Sorting Hat], she is rather nice. I've talked to her a couple of times, in the library. Granted, she is a good person, but she's going to steal him a way. I know it, and I can't let it happen. Thankfully, today she's nowhere to be seen.

Instead, he is with a group of wizards. I recognize his friends-who wouldn't? The most popular guys in our year, they are. Harry Potter, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas. They're laughing and joking and pushing each other around.

He's laughing as well, and he has the most amazing smile on his face.

Swoon.

"Leia? Are you listening?" My friend, Gretchen Sinclair, is waving her hands in front of my face. "Earth to Leia Clarke!" I can never get her American Muggle expressions.

"Hmm. Yes?" I say, tearing my eyes away from the Griffindor table and fixing them on her, pretending to be completely absorbed in whatever she had been harping on about.

She is not a bit convinced. "You weren't paying attention!" Gretchen huffs, annoyed. "This is important!"

I roll my eyes. Important to Gretchen probably means another piece of mindless gossip.

Cho Chang, another one of my good friends who is in the year above us, leans in towards us. "Not as important as him, huh, I bet?" she teases and gives me a conspirational wink.

Without naming names, I know who she's referring to. I bite back the blush that threatens to fill my cheeks. "Shut up, Cho." I mutter. No need to further publicise my massive crush on him. Nearly everyone in Ravenclaw already knows. They've been teasing me about it for ages. Well. Since the beginning of the year, anyway.

"Oh, sure." Cho rolls her eyes and takes a sip of pumpkin juice.

Gretchen's eyes are glittering. "Ron Weasley, huh?" She locates him over with the Griffindors, giving him the Manhattan once-over. "Not a bad choice, Lei. Not a bad choice at all."

I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. Actually, I can practically see her unrolling her Gossip parchment, sugarquill in hand. "Hmm. Ronald Weasley; second youngest of the Weasley family; with five older brothers and a sister. Sixth-Year; Griffindor captain and keeper; house prefect; ginger-haired, blue eyes, six feet tall, great body; Chudley Cannons fan; best subject: Defence Against the Dark Arts; worst subject: Potions; loves sugarquills, Chocolate Frogs and, sad to say, Hermione Granger." She recited, eyes closed in concentration.

It was nothing I didn't already know, but still. I stared at her in complete and utter bafflement. I love Gretchen, really I do; she's like a sister to me, but sometimes I just don't get her. "Honestly, Gretchen, if you spend half as much time on schoolwork as you do memorising other people's vital statistics, you'd be getting all A's." I tell her, trying not to sound like I'm lecturing.

She gives me an infuriating smile. "I already am."

Honestly, I don't know how she does it, that girl.



*



"Wake up, Leia." A voice calls. "Everyone's already up."

I groan and pull the pillow over my ears, trying to block out the sound. "Go away, Padma." I say groggily to my good friend, Padma Patil.

"Yeah, go away, Padma," Gretchen teases. "You're interrupting her dream with Ron."

"Ooh." Padma bounces over. "Dreaming of Ron, are you? I should have known." She giggles. "He's grown up a lot since the summer. Very different from his Yule-Ball-days. I very nearly didn't recognise him."

"Yeah, the muscles." Even without opening my eyes, I know that Gretchen is wiggling her eyebrows. She sits on my bed and pokes me in the ribs. "Reckon he's been working out?"

A steamy image of Ron Weasley flexing his pecs, a knowing smile on his face, fills my mind. I pull the pillow over my face to hide my blush.

Gretchen snorts. "You're such a pig." She complains.

Padma pulls the pillow off and tosses it somewhere else.

"Hey!" I protest.

"C'mon, hon. Wake up. It's Tuesday." She reminds me.

Tuesday. Tuesday. Oh! My mind snaps into focus.

I live for Tuesdays. It's the day the sixth-year Griffindors and Ravenclaws have class together. Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. And with Ron.

I sigh dreamily, and get up. "C'mon, you guys, hurry up." I say. "We don't want to be late for breakfast."



*