Crazy to Crazy

I don't own anything. But don't we all just love driving Harry nuts.

Harry sighed, and resigned himself to contemplating the fact that he was insane.

Wait, strike that – she was insane. Was he insane because he loved her or did he love her because she was insane?

And since when was he in love with her?

He sighed again, that was becoming a habit. He stared at her out of the window of t6he room he shared with the rest of the Gryffindor sixth year boys, who could never ever find out if he ever wanted any peace, as she talked to Ginny.

He contemplated her carefully, Long ash blonde hair, slightly protruding eyes and a big smile. She wasn't particularly beautiful, more quite pretty. Compared to the vibrant redhead she was talking to she faded into the background for most people.

So why was it that he could never take his eyes off her? Why did he resign himself to being unable to tear himself away from some crazy conversation when she floated into a room? Why was he disappointed when he wasn't?

He had laughed at Ron, some months ago, for having leapt into dangerous situations many a time with Harry against the most feared of the dark wizards, and yet could not bring himself to admit his feelings to their bushy-haired best friend. Now he, who had usually been leading Ron into those situations, couldn't even admit his feelings to anyone, let alone her.

He scowled at Ron who, arm firmly wrapped around Hermione's waist, had joined the chatting pair below. This was all Ron's fault. It was his little sister who had soon become best friends with her which had meant that she had visited the Burrow. It was Ron who had invited harry to the Burrow and then wandered off with his girlfriend leaving Harry to talk to the younger pair and quickly become infatuated with her and then had sent him the note. Harry decided he was glad there was no one around to argue with this logic since blaming someone else always made him feel better.

(He had learnt this trick from Ron – "It's all your fault harry. You suggested we rescue her from the troll, so we became friends. Then you put us into life or death situations so I looked responsible and got made a prefect, so I spent loads of time with her and was forced to realise I had feelings for her. I liked blissful ignorance")

Then she did the cruellest thing anyone had ever done. She glanced up at the window and smiled. Harry felt himself melt inside and glanced again at the note which had caused this particular bout of self-pity.

'There's a Hogsmeade weekend on the 18th, You don't mind me and Hermione going off do you. Why not ask whoever you've been moping over.

Ron.

Harry scowled, now Ron was getting all perceptive and he'd have to ask her.

How hard could it be, just one crazy person asking another crazy person a simple question.

Sometimes Harry hated Ron.