One of the most treacherous things you can do is lie to yourself. If you think something, then think it freely. If you feel something, then feel it fully. If you are something, then be it to the best of your ability. Just be honest with yourself. I know it can be so very hard at times. But I also know the mess that lies can create.

Hermione had gone to sleep that night with a myriad of emotions. She had never wished as desperately as she did at this moment that she could have a close female companion with whom she could spill all these emotions to. The only person she could think of was Ginny. But something told Hermione that it wouldn't be the wisest decision to divulge this particular information to her.

But what was this information, anyway? What exactly was she feeling? And why couldn't she get his voice and his words out of her mind?

She should have seen this coming. How could she not have seen this coming? All the feelings that she had pushed aside and ignored for so many months were now bursting through the makeshift dam she had unknowingly placed around her heart.

But it angered her.

Why should those six simple words turn her entire world upside down? No, she wasn't that shallow. She wasn't that pathetic. And more importantly, she wasn't a child anymore.

But yet, the way he had said it was so sincere. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Hermione sighed to herself and closed her eyes as she lay in bed. When would she just admit it? She was too tired to fight it any longer. She'd been fighting it for months.

She fancied Harry.

Stuffing her face in her pillow, she let out a groan.

Hermione woke up the next morning with a nervous knot in her stomach. For several seconds she couldn't understand why, but then everything from the night before came rushing back to the forefront of her mind. And as a result, the knot in her stomach only tightened further.

Was it pathetic that she was afraid to see Harry? Because she sure felt that way.

Nevertheless, she continued her morning routine as usual, all the time chanting the words: It's just Harry, It's just Harry, as somewhat of a mantra inside her head.

Despite this, however, she seemed to unconsciously spend an extra ten minutes attempting to tame her hair. And realizing this, she mentally scolded herself repeatedly before grabbing her bag in a huff and heading down the stairs and into the common room.

As she was an early riser, the common room was still quite empty. Harry and Ron wouldn't be up for at least another twenty more minutes, so she decided to head down to breakfast where the food would perhaps ease the ever-present knot in her stomach.

She was wrong.

Hermione threw her butter knife down on the table in frustration, earning several looks from her fellow Gryffindors.

Okay, stop this, Hermione. Stop this right now.

"It's just Harry," she said quietly to herself. "It's just Harry."

Hermione looked at her watch. Did they honestly choose this day of all days to be late?

The doors to the Great Hall opened at that moment and Hermione immediately looked up.

But alas, she wanted to groan aloud as she saw Luna hopping over to the Ravenclaw table.

The doors opened a second time.

Fred and George.

Fifteen gruelling minutes later, the Great Hall was starting to empty out and there was still no sign of Harry and Ron.

Why was she getting all worked up over this, anyway? They would come down and she would greet them as usual and everything would be completely normal.

Again, she was wrong.

The doors opened a third time. Hermione hesitated before looking up. But almost beyond her control, her eyes travelled to the other side of the Great Hall and sure enough there was Harry and Ron.

Her stomach dropped almost immediately when she saw him, and she felt her heart fluttering like mad.

Hermione had to marvel at the human psychology for a moment. She had unknowingly fancied Harry for at least three months now, yet it wasn't until she had actually admitted this to herself that her body started to react in this manner.

"Morning," Harry greeted her, slightly out of breath as he and a flustered Ron joined her at the table.

"What took you so long?" Hermione scolded. "Class starts in about ten minutes."

"Yeah well, someone didn't think to wake us up," said Ron, glaring at Neville who was rising from the bench.

Neville sheepishly looked down at his feet.

"Well hurry up and eat then. I don't fancy being late for Transfiguration," said Hermione.

"Just go on without us," said Harry.

She would never admit it aloud, but a small part of Hermione would have much rather stayed with him instead.

She shook off that feeling quickly, though, before hurrying off to class, shouting a "Don't be late," over her shoulder at them.

As the week wore on, Hermione was proud to say that this newfound affection towards Harry didn't dramatically change anything about her life thus far.

Some things were definitely different, yes. For example, she was suddenly much more conscious of Harry's presence. Going into any room, Hermione would immediately seek out his black messy hair and feel a slight twinge of disappointment if she couldn't find it. If he sat next to her class, she would suddenly become exceedingly aware of herself and her surroundings. She found herself giving her full rapt attention to the professor but not comprehending a single word they were saying because her mind was elsewhere. It was on Harry's leg that accidentally brushed against hers. It was on his hand that he would run through his hair when he was in deep concentration. And it was on his quiet contagious laughter and his magnificent smile.

However, she didn't let it overcome her. Her studies were infinitely more important than these ruddy feelings.

They were currently in Charms listening to Flitwick lecture about colour changing spells. Harry was seated on her right and Ron was next to him. Out of the corner of her eye Hermione could see them playing a game of Wizard Hangman in Ron's already defaced textbook.

She continued watching as Harry, guessing the letter 'v' (to which Hermione mentally scoffed at), caused his man to grow another leg. He then guessed another letter which she couldn't hear, but judging by the sudden mangled and bloodied image of the hangman, he seemed to have lost.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned her attention back to Flitwick.

"Now, all of you should take special note of colour changing spells because they often appear in the OWLs," Flitwick squeaked.

Hermione quickly made a note of it at the top of her parchment. She clicked her tongue with impatience as she heard Harry and Ron quietly chuckling to themselves. "Pay attention!" she hissed at them as they quickly fumbled around with their blank pieces of parchment and pretended like they were taking notes.

Hermione glared at them before once again turning her attention back to Flitwick.

"I don't even know why I bother helping you," Hermione told Harry and Ron at dinner that night. "You both can get T's on your exams, for all I care."

"Oh come on, Hermione," Ron said beseechingly. "Don't be such a—"

"A what, Ron?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised and daring him to speak.

"Uhm..."

"So you can get a T, then?" Harry asked suddenly, as if attempting to change the subject. "Fred and George were serious?"

"Well I suppose you two will help us find out, won't you?" Hermione said derisively.

"Doesn't matter anyway," Ron said through a mouth full of potatoes. "Harry wants to be an Auror, don't you Harry? And who in their right mind would deny Harry Potter as an Auror?"

"Even if that were true, how exactly does that help you?" Hermione asked Ron with one eyebrow raised.

Ron simply smirked and thumped Harry on the back. "It's always good to have connections," he stated causing Harry to roll his eyes.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Harry said. "We're not daft, we'll study."

"Who said I was worried?" replied Hermione.

"No one," Harry said innocently.

Hermione wanted to give him some cheeky reply, but none came to mind. So she settled with a 'good' and went back to her dinner.

She seemed to be doing that a lot lately, trying to be all witty and clever around Harry, which was actually quite foolish now that she came to think of it. Harry already knew she was clever. She already knew she was clever. But she had to admit it was still nice...when she said something that made Harry smile or laugh. Yes, it was very nice.

"Ron!" someone shouted, bringing Hermione from her thoughts at once.

Ron jumped in his seat as he turned around to face a very intimidating Angelina Johnson.

"Yes?" Ron squeaked.

"I heard from Fred and George that you were thinking of skiving off the game this Saturday?" Angelina said, glaring at Ron.

"What?" Ron nearly screamed. "No! They're liars!"

Angelina stared at him menacingly for a moment. "Good," she stated finally. "I'm just making sure. I'll see you at practice tomorrow."

"See you," Ron replied. And when she left he breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm going to murder those prats," Ron said gruffly, "I told them I wished I could skive off the game. Like I would actually go through with it. Angelina would skin me alive!"

Being prematurely reminded of the game on Saturday, Ron was in a depressed mood the rest of the night. The three of them had been working on homework in the common room when Ron shut his book in a huff and stated that he wanted to take a break. Harry and Hermione watched as he went to sit alone by the fire.

"Maybe I should go talk to him," Harry said quietly, still looking at Ron.

"Yeah," Hermione sighed. "Maybe you should."

"But it's not like I'm going to tell him anything I haven't said before," Harry argued.

"I know, Harry," Hermione said gently. "But sometimes you need to hear things more than once in order to believe them."

Harry seemed to ponder this for a moment before nodding his head and getting up. She watched as he walked over and sat down next to Ron. The two were silent for a moment, both staring into the fire. Then Harry started to say something which she couldn't make out from across the room. At first it didn't seem to be having much effect as Ron's shoulders were still slumped dejectedly, but eventually he seemed to return back to normal. She watched as Ron smirked and then proceeded to punch Harry in the arm.

Hermione smiled. Yes, he was definitely back to normal.

Harry and Ron both got up then and started heading towards her. Hermione looked down, pretending to have been working diligently on her homework the entire time.

"So when's that article thingy of yours supposed to come out, Harry?" said Ron, as he and Harry took a seat at the table.

"Dunno," replied Harry. "Do you know when, Hermione?"

"Well, Luna said it might have to be delayed since her father is expecting an article on recent sightings of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. And we all know how important that will be."

There was silence for a moment.

Then Ron snorted loudly causing the other two to burst out into a fit of laughter.

It was the morning of the Quidditch match and Ron looked especially queasy. It didn't seem to be helping that Angelina was barking at him to eat a proper breakfast. Or that Fred and George were openly betting on how many goals he would miss. Or that the Slytherins would erupt into a loud chorus of "Weasley is Our King" anytime one of them walked by. No, none of that seemed to be helping at all.

About fifteen minutes after the Gryffindor team left to get ready for the game, Harry and Hermione along with the rest of the school walked down to the Quidditch pitch.

"So, do you think he's going to remember anything from your pep talk the other night?" Hermione asked Harry as they found seats by their fellow Gryffindors.

"Nope," Harry said simply.

"I didn't think so."

The teams were still in their respective locker rooms as the stands began to fill up. It felt strange having Harry here in the stands with her for a Gryffindor game. He'd been on the team since his first year and even though she knew how much he was dying to be in the air right now, she allowed herself the smallest bit of satisfaction at sitting here alone with him.

Suddenly, she heard Harry groan loudly next to her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He nodded his head towards the stairs and Hermione caught sight of Umbridge, clad in bright pink as usual, waddling up the staircase and making her way to a bench a few rows below them.

"Can we move?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione pleadingly.

Hermione had to bite back a smile. He looked like a little kid just then and she found it extremely endearing.

"Harry, the game's about to start," she said reasonably. "Just don't pay any attention to her."

But as both teams set off in the air, Hermione saw Umbridge turn in her seat and look directly at Harry, her wide toad's mouth stretched in what appeared to be a gloating smile.

Hermione looked quickly at Harry to see if he noticed and sure enough she could see him clenching his teeth and piercing Umbridge with his gaze.

Hermione laid a hand on Harry's arm. "Just ignore her, Harry," she whispered into his ear as Umbridge turned back to face the field.

Harry who was staring daggers at Umbridge's back, nodded grudgingly before turning his attention back to the match.

Hermione reluctantly removed her hand from Harry's arm and turned to watch as well.

However, watching the match was becoming more and more agonizing by the minute. Ron simply could not for the life of him save any goals that were coming his way, and Harry looked as if he was having a mental breakdown. Both his hands were in his hair as he was slumped over with his elbows on his knees.

They watched as one of the Hufflepuff chasers once again zoomed down the field to Ron's end and Hermione could practically hear all the Gryffindor fans groaning simultaneously.

"Come on, Ron," Harry pleaded.

The chaser was getting closer and closer until finally he threw the quaffle hard at the right goalpost. Everyone watched as Ron rushed to block the ball but then miss it by mere centimetres.

"Damn it, Ron. I've seen you block that shot a thousand times!" Harry exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

"Sit down, Harry," Hermione demanded, grasping his arm and pulling him back down.

"I can't do this anymore, Hermione, I can't watch," Harry said, burying his face in his hands. "Just tell me when it's over."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh look, Ginny's seen the snitch," she stated.

Harry's head snapped up.

"Oops, just kidding," Hermione said giggling.

"Hermione, I'm going to kill you."

But before Hermione could respond, everyone watched as one of the Gryffindor beaters missed the bludger and ended up hitting Angelina in the mouth with his bat.

There was a loud 'ooh' from the crowd.

"I don't know who I feel worse for, Angelina or the boy who hit her," Hermione said, watching Angelina screaming her lungs out at him.

"I'm gonna have to go with him," Harry concluded.

Hermione nodded.

They continued watching for about five more minutes when Harry suddenly grabbed Hermione's arm.

"Hermione!" he nearly shouted. "The snitch! The snitch is right there near Kirke's ankle!"

Hermione had to calm her heart that was fluttering madly at Harry's grip before attempting to answer in a normal voice. "Where?" she said, squinting. "I don't see it."

Letting go of her arm, he pointed at one of the Gryffindor beaters. "There!" he said. "And look! Ginny's seen it! Come on, Ginny. Come on. Don't hesitate just go. Go!"

But alas, Ginny had waited a second too long and the snitch had fluttered away and out of sight.

Harry threw his head in his hands again and groaned loudly.

"Hermione, remind me not to come to the next match. I think I might just go mental if I have to sit on the sidelines again," he said.

Hermione had to agree with him there. "Sure thing, Harry." She refrained from adding that Quidditch was just a sport and not a life or death situation. Somehow she didn't think that would go over well with him at the moment.

It was about twenty-two minutes into the game when Harry and Ginny spotted the Snitch again. Luckily this time, Ginny had not hesitated and even managed to snatch the Snitch from right under Hufflepuff Seeker Summberby's nose.

Unfortunately Gryffindor was short by ten points at the end of the match. But as Harry kept reminding her, it was a miracle that they managed to lose by such a small amount.

It seemed as if a gray cloud was hovering over the common room as everyone returned from the match. Hermione had a great urge to scream out 'It's just a game' in every single person's dismal face, but once again refrained from doing such a thing.

Fed up with watching everyone drown their sorrows in butterbeer, Hermione decided to head up to her dormitory for the night.

The next morning at breakfast, they were greeted with a very pleasant surprise. As soon as Hermione saw the first couple of owls swoop down in front of Harry, she knew it could only mean one thing.

"Harry!" Hermione said breathlessly, plunging her hands into the feathery mass and pulling out a screech owl bearing a long, cylindrical package. "I think I know what this means—open this one first!"

She watched as Harry ripped off the brown packaging. Out rolled a tightly furled copy of March's edition of The Quibbler. After scanning the front page he passed it over to Hermione and Ron.

And sure enough, there was Harry's face grinning sheepishly at them from the front cover. In large red letters across his picture were the words:

HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:

THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED

AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN

Hermione couldn't seem to wipe the enormous smile on her face. She stared at the magazine then back at Harry, then at the magazine and back at Harry again. It was all so exciting!

"It's good, isn't it?" said Luna, who had drifted over to the Gryffindor table and now squeezed herself onto the bench between Fred and Ron. "It came out yesterday, I asked Dad to send you a free copy. I expect these are letters from readers."

"That's what I thought," said Hermione eagerly, "Harry, d'you mind if we—"

"Help yourself," said Harry, feeling slightly bemused.

And so Harry, Ron, and Hermione proceeded to rip open the many envelopes scattered across the table.

"This one's from a bloke who thinks you're off your rocker," said Ron, glancing down his letter, "Ah well..."

Hermione skimmed the letter in front of her quickly but looked up frowning. "This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St. Mungo's." Crumpling up the letter, she reached for another.

"This one looks okay though," said Harry slowly. "Hey she believes me!"

Hermione smiled up at him before looking through her current letter.

"This one's in two minds," said Fred, who had joined in the letter-opening with enthusiasm. "Says you don't come across as a mad person, but he really doesn't want to believe You-Know-Who's back so he doesn't know what to think now...Blimey, what a waste of parchment..."

"Here's another one you've convinced, Harry!" said Hermione excitedly. She placed this letter neatly on top of the previous one before reaching once more into the pile and digging up a pink envelope.

As she was taking out the letter inside, a photograph fell out of the envelope as well. Hermione looked at it curiously before turning it over and staring at a rather pretty witch waving energetically back at her. She placed the photograph upside down on the table before opening up the highly scented letter.

Dear Harry,

I've always thought the stories about you from The Daily Prophet were a load of rubbish. I only just graduated from Hogwarts two years ago and though you may not know me, I know you, of course. And I also know that you aren't as barking mad as the Ministry makes you out to be.

I wrote this letter to let you know that I stand firmly behind you, Harry. And I've convinced many of my friends to do the same. Now, I'm not normally a reader of The Quibbler but as I was walking through Diagon Alley yesterday, I happened to notice your picture on the front page. And I'd just like to add that you have definitely grown in the two years since I last saw you, Harry. You're quite an attractive young man, if I do say so myself.

I currently work at the Apothecary in Diagon Alley. Feel free to stop by anytime. Just ask for Tracy. I've included a photograph of myself for you. Maybe you'll remember seeing my face around at Hogwarts?

Anyways, feel free to owl me anytime you want. I would love to hear back from you.

Yours Truly,

Tracy Palmer

Hermione looked at the letter with disgust.

The nerve! This tart is practically hitting on Harry. And she's probably almost twenty years old! That is half a decade older than him.. Half a decade! Why, it's practically pedophilia...How dare she call Harry attractive? How dare she suggest he stop by at her stupid shop? How dare she include a photograph of herself?

"Sick..." Hermione said quietly to herself, crumpling Miss Palmer's letter in her hand and throwing it with the rest of the junk mail.

"What did you say, Hermione?" Harry asked over his own letter.

"What?" Hermione looked up startled. "Oh um...I said it's sickening how some people still refuse to believe you."

"Another one who thinks you're barking," said Ron, throwing a crumpled letter over his shoulder, "but this one says you've got her converted, and she now thinks you're a real hero—she's put in a photograph too—wow."

Hermione's mouth opened slightly in shock, but thankfully she recovered before anyone noticed.

Oh for Merlin's sake! What is with these women? Her mind practically screamed. I mean, yes, Harry is attractive. Even though he's a little short...and kind of scrawny...but he has that incredible smile...and those green eyes...

"What is going on here?" said a falsely sweet, girlish voice.

Hermione instantly cringed as if by reflex.

"Why have you got all these letters, Mr. Potter?" said Umbridge slowly.

"Is that a crime now?" Fred said loudly. "Getting mail?"

"Be careful Mr. Weasley, or I shall have to put you in detention," said Umbridge slowly. "Well Mr. Potter?"

Oh boy...

"People have written to me because I gave an interview," said Harry. "About what happened to me last June."

Umbridge was practically seething as Harry told her about his interview during Hogsmeade.

"There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you, Mr. Potter," she whispered. "How you dare...how you could..." She took a deep breath. "I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week's worth of detentions."

She stalked away, clutching The Quibbler to her chest, the eyes of many students following her.

"That went well," Fred said.

A/N: So I just want to clarify something. At this stage in time, Hermione is like...a sweet deprived child walking into Honeydukes for the first time. She's never really had a crush on anyone before and just like any other teenage girl she's easily excitable. However, despite this she maintains her dignity and as time goes on you'll all see how this giddiness turns into something much deeper. BUT ANYWAYS thanks to those of you who reviewed last chapter! I really appreciate it as always :) Keep them coming!