Of course, I do not own any of the charecters, places, or phrases that you recognize. And I know it's not perfect, but I hope it's good enough. Sorry it took so long to update. I've been busy. But the more reviews I get, the quicker the next section will come out. begs for reviews

Dear Diary,

I know I haven't written in quite some time, but that's because I've been busy lately. I've met with Jesse every day. I've spent almost every waking moment with him. He's amazing, as are his friends. I feel like they've accepted me for who I am. There are no thoughts about me being something more. I am just Hermione Granger, a plain girl who has gone to a boarding school for most of her life. I am just me. And I have a group of friends who are just who they are.

But Jesse…he's another story. Every time I see him, I feel my pulse quicken, my breath grow short. Something about him does this to me. Never have I felt this before. Yes, I have had feelings for other people, namely Ron, but nothing compares to this. This is…amazing. I think he feels the same thing for me. I mean, he's made it quite evident. He always sits next to me, and sits quite close. If I'm upset, which I am very rarely now, he just comforts me, drawing me into one of his amazing hugs.

I don't know. Maybe I'm reading into this too much. I have a tendency to do that. I did that with Ron. For years I did that with Ron. Every time he did something slightly out of character, I was convinced it was because he had a crush on me. There are so many instances that I can pinpoint, but I will refrain. I just hope my instincts are right this time, because at least to my knowledge, Ron never had a crush on me. Not one that he was willing to share despite my quite obvious hinting at times.

Enough about Ron though. Truthfully, thinking about him is almost as bad as thinking about Harry. Once Harry disappeared, it has been like Ron has disappeared as well. I can't stand it; I can't stand not speaking to him, not being with him. It's worse than all of the fights we've gotten into. It's worse than seeing him with Lavender Brown. It's just…I can't even begin to describe it.

Being with Jesse can get Harry off of my mind, but it just brings Ron to the forefront of it. I constantly find myself comparing the two, finding things in Jesse that are lacking, that Ron has, that I would like Jesse to have. I wasn't lying before when I said that Jesse is amazing. He is. And I feel all of that when I'm with him. But it's just not the same as what I feel like with Ron. I wasn't lying before when I said I feel something extraordinary around Jesse, because I do. It's just a different feeling with Ron. I enjoy the feeling I get with Ron better. It's different. But better.

Sometimes I can't stand how I constantly compare them. They are two totally different people, who are from two different worlds. But when it comes down to it, they are still human, and I know will always compare every guy I meet to Ron. No one will ever compare to my first love, my only love, though Jesse comes close.

If only he admitted that he loved me back before he decided not to speak to me. If only something had sparked between us. If only Harry's disappearance didn't estrange us. If only…

Tears stained the white pages of her journal, blending the black ink together, so that the words disappeared in a matter of seconds. Her shoulders shook with each intake of breath, though her sobs were quiet, almost inaudible. Her pen dropped out of her hand, nestling itself into her purple bed sheets. So that she wasn't heard by her mother, who had finally come to accept that Hermione was genuinely happy, she threw herself down on her yellow covered pillow, burying her face far into the fabric. The sound was muffled greatly. One could barely hear any noise, let alone the sobs that wracked her entire body. And without realizing it, she fell asleep as she began to calm down. Her diary lay opened on her bed, and she was still in her jeans and tee-shirt. But she still fell asleep, and slept peacefully through the night.

The sunlight shone brightly through her window, bathing the sleeping Hermione. What a perfect day for such miserable thoughts that would inevitably come. Well, if Hermione remembers what day it is which she will. Her body curls up, her hair falling over her face. In her sleep she wipes it away, swatting at the annoying piece of hair. Not long after, her eyes flutter opened, and she stretched slowly, her arms coming above her head, her feet stretching to the bottom of her bed, her back arching slightly. A yawn contorts her face for several seconds before she closes her mouth and sits up.

Befuddlement adorned her features as she realizes that she is still in the clothes she had been in the day before. Confusion engulfs her as she sees her diary lying face opened on the bed. Quickly, she places it under her mattress, just incase her mother happened to walk in. She then jumped out of bed and ran into the shower, sliding out of her clothes from the night before, washing her body carefully. When she got out of the shower, she passed her calendar, and looked to see the date; July 31st, Harry's birthday. Suddenly a cloud seemed to drift over her, leaving a heavy feeling on her shoulder and darkness above her head. It is Harry's birthday and she isn't going to see him, she isn't going to spend the rest of the summer with him. She may never see him again. He may never live to see his next birthday. He may not be alive now.

Tears crept into the corners of her eyes, but she fought them back with her usual willpower. She couldn't break down. She needed to get dressed. She needed to put her make-up on, although she was still getting used to it. Jesse had introduced the concept of make-up to her, and ever since then, she had been using it. Of course, she was able to apply it perfectly, because Hermione usually does things perfectly. Going into her closet, she tried to look for something which her mood would allow her to wear. The only thing she could find was a lone pair of green sweatpants. Not caring about her appearance on this dreary day, she threw them on. Rummaging through her drawers, she found a black tank-top, which she threw on as well, looking as if she just rolled out of bed. Her hair was thrown into a ponytail, and she decided against wearing make-up today. She slipped on her black sneakers, and got ready to rush out of the house.

She wasn't thinking anymore. Rather, she was running on autopilot. If she let herself think, she would be thinking of Harry, dreading what could have happened. Especially today. For some reason, today, his birthday seems to be worse for her than any other, probably because she usually sees him on or near his birthday. But today she knows she's not going to see him. And she is almost positive that she is not going to see him any time in the near future. Or maybe any time at all.

As she tried to fight back tears, her eyes grew red and puffy, as if she had been crying, when that is exactly what she was trying to avoid. She ran out of the house, scratching out a note for her mother, saying that she was going to be gone all day, and may not be in for dinner. After she placed the note on the kitchen table, she almost sprinted to the door, feeling a cool breeze meet her face. The air calmed her down a bit, but she was still unable to forget what day today is, what this could have been if Harry wasn't practically asking to be killed. She continued on her way to the library, hearing the front door slam behind her, but the sound didn't even make her flinch. She just kept walking, as if she was on a mission. Which, in retrospect, she was. She was on a mission to forget. Maybe Jesse can help her do that.

That thought was her fuel; it allowed her to make her way to the library without breaking down. When she reached the steps leading up to the wonderful, gothic style library, she took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. Her eyes were still puffy and red, though she was unaware of that. Her lips were pursed in a line, as she tried not to display her extreme depression. She thought she masked it well, which is the only reason she continued up the steps and into the library to meet Jesse. But as soon as she stepped through the double doors, as soon as Jesse spotted her, he knew something was wrong. She had not hid her emotions well, which angered her.

Jesse jumped up from the chair he was sitting in, and walked briskly over to her. His arms wrapped around her small frame, and he hugged her close, sensing that she needed one. His instincts told him to calm her down, to make the evident hurt disappear. But Hermione just pushed him away, glaring at him with an unwanted fire burning deep within her. She needed the comfort, but for some reason, she was pushing all comfort away. Maybe it was because she felt she needed the pain. Or maybe it was because she felt guilty for not being with Harry and this was her punishment. Either way, Jesse was surprised when she rejected his offer to comfort her.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, taking a step away so that she didn't physically harm him. Jesse's usual eccentric behavior was replaced by one of seriousness and caring. He couldn't help but want to make Hermione feel better. He couldn't help but want to make the pain go away.

"Nothing," she snapped, pushing ahead of him to go sit down at one of the tables, placing her head in her hands. "I'm just fine."

"No," Jesse said sternly, sitting across from where Hermione had sat down, placing his hands on top of hers. His gaze caught hers and he fought to hold it before finishing his statement. "You aren't. So can you tell me what's wrong? Because I can't stand to see you like this."

"Yes," she said sharply, looking up at him, her eyes cutting through him like the sharpest of blades. Her mouth was set in a straight line, her tone ice cold. "I am."