Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter but the personalities of these characters are mostly mine, I do not wish to make it seem that J.K. Rowling's wonderful style of writing has changed drastically.
I Wish You Could Understand What I Am Going Through – First Kiss
Bleary emerald eyes peered through a pair of round spectacles at an attractive girl with cascading brown hair and congenial brown eyes. They wandered mischievously over her sinuous body from bottom to top and stopped at the pair of large, dark eyes. They were so alluring; he could drown in them and still feel like he was in heaven.
She was wearing a purple spaghetti strap, with pale pink shorts that barely covered her delicate, fair legs. A wave of embarrassment washed over him at the realization that he wanted to make out with his best friend. He seized a book absently from the table, not noticing that it was titled "The Goblin Rebellion". Upon discerning this, he groaned softly. He could not possibly have picked a more mind-numbingly boring subject.
He flipped it open to the first page, making a valiant effort to concentrate on the tiny print that marched across the page in tidy rows instead of salivating over his best friend's long, slender legs and willowy body.
The Goblin RebellionThe Goblin Rebellion was set off by a goblin called Creachen Shups. It was against…
'She is really gorgeous once you look at her carefully. Her eyes are so entrancing…'
Goblin Rebellion was set off by a goblin called Creachen…
'It's so cute, the way she sits cross-legged on the floor with a book on the table and how intently she pores over the words while biting her lip absentmindedly…'
Set off by a goblin called…
'I wonder why I just can't take my eyes off her. I love her… Is it possible that she loves me back?'
THE GOBLIN REBELLION WAS SET OFF BY A GOBLIN…
His mind screamed out the words in his head, trying frantically to block out his musings on the eye-catching girl who sat a few paces away. It was an exercise in absolute futility; as the words pounded vociferously in his head, the part of him that adored her so deeply screamed even louder. This struggle to be heard continued until his mind was a whirl of confusion and it hurt even more than his scar had when Voldemort had pressed his cold, bony finger against it. It was too much to try to listen to all of it at once.
'I love her! I want her as mine!'
CREACHEN SHUPS IN THE YEAR 1849! HE WANTED TO PROVE…
'DO YOU STILL DENY IT? YOU'VE BEEN GAWKING AT HER FOR TEN WHOLE MINUTES, YOU IMBECILE!'
TO PROVE THAT GOBLINS WERE WORTHY OF…
He clutched his head and moaned loudly, bowing forward and dropping his book, attracting the concerned attention of the brunette somebody.
"Harry, are you feeling all right?" Hermione asked fretfully with a troubled look in her eyes.
'Oh gosh. Why does she have to talk to me when I'm feeling most perplexed by my… feelings?'
Now all he had left was the loving side.
'TALK TO HER, YOU DOLT! YOU LIKE HER SO GO AHEAD! SHE'S RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU! IT'S TIME TO GET A MOVE ON! YOU MAY NEVER GET A SECOND CHANCE! TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL!'
"All right, all right, I will," Harry muttered crossly.
He blinked up into Hermione's vexed countenance. He began hesitantly, "Hermione…"
He was suddenly, startlingly aware of what he had to do. It would take courage and a tint of audacity but it was the only way he would be able to express what he felt for her.
He took in a deep breath and leaned forward slowly, meeting Hermione's lips with a tender kiss before she had any idea of what was going on. He pulled back hastily and glanced sheepishly at her, trying to read her indecipherable expression. He was unable to distinguish it, wondering whether it was disgust or happiness that shone through her eyes and the way her mouth curled oddly after his deed.
"Well, Hermione… that's how I feel," he stood up stiffly and walked awkwardly away, holding himself straight with a false dignity he did not feel. When he was out of Hermione's sight, he sprinted for his dormitory and flung himself upon his bed, his breath hissing through his teeth.
He lay on the soft pillow and stared blankly at the ceiling, feeling his eyes and heart beginning to sting.
"I wish you could understand what I am going through. I love you, Hermione," he whispered to himself as he slipped slowly into the embrace of gentle dreams of him and Hermione together.
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