Disclaimer: not mine (JK Rowling and Dido)

"My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all. The morning rain clouds up my window, and I can't see at all, And even if I could it'd all be gray, but your picture on my wall It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad."

Still in my white pajamas, I sat crossed-legged on a window ledge, and sipped my tea inside the tiny, and cozy pub filled with cheerful and talkative witches and wizards. Holding my mug close to me, I watched the many faces in the winter storm outside, running with hands covering their faces. I stared, mesmerized by the falling flakes, and white swirling gusts of wind. I felt a light tap on my shoulder, and looked to see whom it was. Ron was looking down upon me. He was holding a tray of tea, crumpets, and steaming mugs of butterbeer.

"Want to join us?" He said, nodding toward the table behind him, occupied by Harry and Hermione.

"Sure" I said

We walked over to the small round table, and sat down. Harry and Hermione greeted me, and I did the same in return.

I guess I had gotten over my feelings for Harry, but I still couldn't help thinking that maybe there was still hope for us. After all, he had been the one who saved my life many times before, and he always seemed to be there when I needed him. Being the sister of his best friend also didn't make it any easier on me, but it was great to be somewhat close to the man I love. Love, yes, love. It never occurred to me how much I loved him, and never would I admit it, even writing it down was difficult. But sometime last year I looked at my past journal entries, and realized that I had wrote down almost everything possible on Harry: His looks, behavior, talents, style, friends, and enemies. The list could go on forever, but I figured that it was time to write my true feelings about him. Constantly, I had been complaining about the fact that he never noticed me, or whatnot. But that time was over. Now it was time for some serious thoughts. So I began to fill my notebook with love letters and poems about Harry. Soon, my journal was occupied with at least three to four pages of "I LOVE YOU HARRY" written all over them. But after the summer, I had gotten used to not writing about him, so I put my diary under my bed and started to enjoy other things in life. About three months went by, and still the journal was left untouched. School had been starting soon, and as I began to pack, I came across it. It had been covered with dust, and seemed ages old, but for some odd reason I pocketed it and began to write in it once more.

I was on winter break now, and I had been thinking about confessing my true feelings to Harry, and spilling out my heart and soul to him, just telling him exactly how I felt ever since I met him. But I was too much of a coward, and my diffidence kept me from doing it. Another problem was that I didn't even know if he felt the same way toward me. What if he didn't take me seriously, like that would ever happen, but what if he didn't? I had been collecting my thoughts together for a while now, and I decided to write it all down in a letter. That way, I wouldn't get all tongue-tied and mixed up when I talked to him. Meanwhile, I was playing hard-to-get, and acting as if everything was just fine between us, and telling people that we were just "friends." But I don't know if this act would last very long. It's only a matter of time that we find out.