Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
***
Dear Diary,
No one knows what it feels like to be. I am like the nerdiest girl in this whole damn school! My parents think that I'm just a 'late-bloomer.' What the hell does that even mean? If they mean that my boobs haven't 'bloomed' yet, then they're completely and totally right. My hair is sticking up in every which way that gravity can allow.
And that Malfoy! What a magnificent jerk! And by that, I mean that he is so completely hot, yet treats people (like me) like trash. His friends, the Neanderthals, have been following around since Year One. Now it's what? Year Six? Goodness! And to think, by now they should've died from being stupid.
Professor Snape is still on my case. He probably is going to stay on my case till I bloody die! It isn't my fault that Neville knows absolutely nothing about Potions-or anything else, for that matter. I'm not trying to be mean to Neville or anything it's just . . . he's so stupid! I can't believe he even made it to Hogwarts!
I'm still a virgin. Enough said.
But I do think that I'm beginning to like Ron. I know, I know! He's like my best friend, but he has been dropping hints that he likes me, and Harry has been trying his best to keep Ron and I alone-always. It's starting to get annoying.
Sorry, Diary, but I must go. Good-bye.
Signed, Hermione
*
Hermione looked at her perfectly written cursive words. She didn't even bother reading them over. She knew what they said anyway.
"Hey, Hermione," greeted Ron and Harry as they sat down beside her on the couch.
Hermione quickly closed her diary and smiled at them weakly. "Hello, guys," she sighed nervously. Her palms began to sweat. She tried her best to keep her composure. She knew it would be just devastating to fall into a nervous break down and cry in front of them. Sure, they were her best friends, but they weren't girls. They wouldn't understand what she was going through.
"Why are you so fidgety?" asked Harry.
"I'm not fidgety, Harry. I am just nervous for tomorrow."
"What's tomorrow?" asked Ron as he stuffed chocolate malt into his mouth.
"Mid-terms, remember?" Harry answered. Ron coughed on his malt and practically threw it up.
"Ron, that is just disgusting," Hermione muttered, looking away. "Anyway, do you think that Dumbledore will have the Yule Ball this year?"
Harry received a confused look on his face. "Yule Ball? Again? Didn't we just have it last year?"
"Yes, Harry, but that was so fun! We met so many different people-"
"She just wants to see Krum, again, Harry," Ron said, opening a box of Every Flavored Beans.
"I do not!" screamed Hermione.
"Yes, you do," Ron fought back.
"I do not. And I perfectly suitable reason for it."
"What is it?" asked Harry.
"Well," she began slowly. "You see, he had asked me if I would like to come with him to some place in Asia during the summer, and I said no. And he seemed pretty upset. He hasn't written to me since."
"Have you ever written to him?" asked Harry.
"Of course! I write to him every week, yet he hasn't answered any of them." Hermione stopped there and stood up. "Well, I am off to bed. 'Night."
Hermione lay in bed just pondering every moment in her life that had truly affected her: when she had found she was a witch, when she had met Harry, when she had studied everything, when she had met Krum. Wow. She had skipped about two years. What had affected her so much in those two years?
"Apparently nothing," she whispered angrily to herself.
"Whoever is whispering, please shut up!" screamed Lavender Brown.
The room became quiet once again.
*
The next day, Hermione walked into the hall. It was a sunny, Saturday morning, and she was the only one who had signed up to tutor students who were failing. It was an extra credit grade for her, but it was torture for her students.
She walked into the empty classroom. Her student wasn't in yet.
"Who is it, anyway?" she thought aloud. She took out her sheet of parchment from her purse-her really BIG purse. Reading the messy chicken scratch (for it was Ron that had written it down for her, 'cause she was off at Hogsmade), she gasped at the name she read.
Malfoy.
***
Dear Diary,
No one knows what it feels like to be. I am like the nerdiest girl in this whole damn school! My parents think that I'm just a 'late-bloomer.' What the hell does that even mean? If they mean that my boobs haven't 'bloomed' yet, then they're completely and totally right. My hair is sticking up in every which way that gravity can allow.
And that Malfoy! What a magnificent jerk! And by that, I mean that he is so completely hot, yet treats people (like me) like trash. His friends, the Neanderthals, have been following around since Year One. Now it's what? Year Six? Goodness! And to think, by now they should've died from being stupid.
Professor Snape is still on my case. He probably is going to stay on my case till I bloody die! It isn't my fault that Neville knows absolutely nothing about Potions-or anything else, for that matter. I'm not trying to be mean to Neville or anything it's just . . . he's so stupid! I can't believe he even made it to Hogwarts!
I'm still a virgin. Enough said.
But I do think that I'm beginning to like Ron. I know, I know! He's like my best friend, but he has been dropping hints that he likes me, and Harry has been trying his best to keep Ron and I alone-always. It's starting to get annoying.
Sorry, Diary, but I must go. Good-bye.
Signed, Hermione
*
Hermione looked at her perfectly written cursive words. She didn't even bother reading them over. She knew what they said anyway.
"Hey, Hermione," greeted Ron and Harry as they sat down beside her on the couch.
Hermione quickly closed her diary and smiled at them weakly. "Hello, guys," she sighed nervously. Her palms began to sweat. She tried her best to keep her composure. She knew it would be just devastating to fall into a nervous break down and cry in front of them. Sure, they were her best friends, but they weren't girls. They wouldn't understand what she was going through.
"Why are you so fidgety?" asked Harry.
"I'm not fidgety, Harry. I am just nervous for tomorrow."
"What's tomorrow?" asked Ron as he stuffed chocolate malt into his mouth.
"Mid-terms, remember?" Harry answered. Ron coughed on his malt and practically threw it up.
"Ron, that is just disgusting," Hermione muttered, looking away. "Anyway, do you think that Dumbledore will have the Yule Ball this year?"
Harry received a confused look on his face. "Yule Ball? Again? Didn't we just have it last year?"
"Yes, Harry, but that was so fun! We met so many different people-"
"She just wants to see Krum, again, Harry," Ron said, opening a box of Every Flavored Beans.
"I do not!" screamed Hermione.
"Yes, you do," Ron fought back.
"I do not. And I perfectly suitable reason for it."
"What is it?" asked Harry.
"Well," she began slowly. "You see, he had asked me if I would like to come with him to some place in Asia during the summer, and I said no. And he seemed pretty upset. He hasn't written to me since."
"Have you ever written to him?" asked Harry.
"Of course! I write to him every week, yet he hasn't answered any of them." Hermione stopped there and stood up. "Well, I am off to bed. 'Night."
Hermione lay in bed just pondering every moment in her life that had truly affected her: when she had found she was a witch, when she had met Harry, when she had studied everything, when she had met Krum. Wow. She had skipped about two years. What had affected her so much in those two years?
"Apparently nothing," she whispered angrily to herself.
"Whoever is whispering, please shut up!" screamed Lavender Brown.
The room became quiet once again.
*
The next day, Hermione walked into the hall. It was a sunny, Saturday morning, and she was the only one who had signed up to tutor students who were failing. It was an extra credit grade for her, but it was torture for her students.
She walked into the empty classroom. Her student wasn't in yet.
"Who is it, anyway?" she thought aloud. She took out her sheet of parchment from her purse-her really BIG purse. Reading the messy chicken scratch (for it was Ron that had written it down for her, 'cause she was off at Hogsmade), she gasped at the name she read.
Malfoy.