A/N: so this is my first story in the second person. I don't know why I decided to write it that way, but I hope it's not terrible. Please review and tell me what you think!
And you look into her eyes not because you don't have anything better to look at, but because you have to. You are drawn to them for some unidentifiable reason, some feeling that you have. You need to see what is inside of them. And you see everything you need and want so desperately to see; love and caring and compassion. You know at that moment that she is the person who will be with you, die for you, and help you through.
"Harry?" she asks, a concerned look on her face, "are you alright?"
"Yeah, Hermione, I'm fine," you reply, tearing your gaze from her eyes.
"You were just staring, I got a little worried," says Hermione.
"It's just that-"
"Hello, you two," says a cheery voice. Ron steps into the room and sits beside Hermione. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her on the lips. She closes her eyes and grins for a moment, and then snaps back.
"You were saying, Harry?" she says.
You pause for a moment and look into her eyes again. You wonder if you should just say it, say everything that you have held bottled up inside of you. You search her eyes for some sort of answer, only to shy away, yet again.
"Oh, it's nothing. I'm just a bit tired is all," you say, feeling a sinking in your stomach as another chance is ruined.
"Maybe you should go have a lie-down, Harry, you've been working yourself too hard on finding this horcrux," says Ron sympathetically.
"Yeah, a lie-down would be good right about now," you say. And it you know it is true. Sleep is a rarity for you between thoughts of locating Nagini the snake and thoughts of Hermione.
You turn the corner to the staircase and pause to listen. You hear Hermione giggling. Your heart leaps at the sound of her laughter.
"Really, Ronald, just because we're alone," she says.
"Hermione," whines Ron, "we haven't been alone in ages. The truth is, I miss…"
"Snogging?" guesses Hermione, stifling a giggle.
"I was going to say being intimate," says Ron. Hermione's muffled laughter stops and is following by the unmistakable sound of snogging. Your stomach flips in disgust as you hear Hermione say: "I love it when you sound mature."
As you flop down on the mattress, you wonder if Hermione feels the connection between you and her. Even if she doesn't feel as strongly about you as you do her, you can't help but think there is something there. Something that maybe she doesn't know how to explain, something she doesn't know how to react to. You hang on to the hope that some day maybe she will recognize it and that day she can look into your eyes and see the same thing that you do in hers.