Harry POV

Damn her! Damn that Hermione Granger, and her sparkling eyes, her mischievous smile, and her unfailing wit! Damn her for her ridiculous power over me!

Harry paced fretfully about his bedroom, his thoughts running amok. He couldn't get the image of Hermione Granger, dressed in Regency period clothing, a few wisps of curly, brown hair fluttering around her face in the gentle breeze. She had looked exquisite tonight...

Damn, damn, damn, damn, DAMN!

The sound of the door opening caused him to start. Sirius stood in the doorway, an infuriating smirk on his face. "I was going to ask when you got a pet elephant," he joked.

"Bugger off," Harry growled.

"Oh, come now, is that any way to talk to your old godfather?"

"When he's being a prat, yes."

"What's got you so miffed?" Sirius ignored this comment.

"Nothing."

He scoffed. "Right. And my real name is Mimbulus Mimbletonia."

"That didn't even resemble clever."

"Why don't you just tell her you like her?"

Harry stopped in his tracks, glaring at Sirius. "I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about."

"Hermione Granger," he said matter-of-factly. "You fancy her, and it's driving you absolutely mad." He chuckled. "Don't worry, we've all been there."

"I do not fancy her!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, sonny boy. Try to keep the stomping to a minimum now, please, I'm headed off to bed." He gave a wave, and one last smirk, before exiting the room, closing the door behind him.

Harry scowled, tempted to pick up the nearest object and throw it at the door. He refrained, just barely. Instead, he settled for picturing Sirius' face as he squeezed his neck. Of course, he would never actually do it—he did love his godfather, despite his increasingly frequent irritation with him—but the mental image was quite satisfying.

Once he'd calmed down, Harry considered Sirius' suggestion. Should he tell her how he felt? His immediate thought was, hell no, but then he considered the possible outcomes. One: she could slap him in the face and tell him to leave her alone. Two: she could laugh, and figuratively slap him with one of her biting quips. Three: she could just say he wasn't her type, let him down easy. And four: she could give him one of those sexy little smirks, flip her hair, and say, "I'll think about it," before seductively sauntering away.

With three out of four less-than-favorable possibilities, Harry didn't think it would be worth the risk. He'd just have to get over her.

Hermione POV

It rained the next day. And Hermione loved it.

She decided to take the day off work, using up some of her paid vacation time (it wasn't like she used it anyway), and spent the day wandering around London. It was so beautiful in the rain, the reflection of the lights on the wet pavement sparkling, and giving the illusion that the city was glowing. And with the colorful autumn leaves and the chill in the air... it was glorious.

As the day gradually reached its close, she went to one of her favorite parks, just wandering around. She discarded the umbrella she'd been holding, deciding it was more fun to let herself get wet. She skipped through puddles, feeling like a little girl again. She came to a halt, however, when something blocked her path.

Or rather, someone.

Why was it always him?

"Oh," she mumbled when she saw the familiar, bespectacled face. "Sorry," she said, and turned around, prepared to skip away from him.

"Miss Granger!"

She stopped, surprised, and faced him again. What did he want now? "Yes?"

He seemed at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Hermione lifted an eyebrow, and shifted her weight onto one leg, cocking her hip, and folding her arms. "Well?" she prompted impatiently.

Clearing his throat, he looked away. "You really shouldn't be out in this rain."

Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that that wasn't what he'd meant to say, but she wasn't in the mood to press the issue. "I like the rain," she insisted. "And I don't care what you, or anyone else, may think about me. I'm going to stay out here and enjoy the rain."

Again, he seemed utterly perplexed, and Hermione felt a smirk coming on. Before it could fully form, however, Harry had grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her—rather forcefully. Hermione struggled against him, eventually pushing him off.

"What the hell was that?" she shouted.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I just..." He appeared to be struggling, then he rolled his eyes, "Oh, hell with it! I'm in love with you!"

Hermione gaped at him. "Come again?"

"I don't even know why!" he groaned, suddenly pacing. "I've tried to fight it, and everything I've learned in my life goes against it! But strangely... I can't stop it." He stopped, and faced her again. "I am absolutely out of my mind with love for you."

There were no words. Hermione stood, silent with shock, for several moments. Only when he said, "Please say something," did she speak.

"I'm sorry you've been struggling with this," she said levelly. "And I'm sorry if I've caused you pain."

He frowned. "That's it? That's... that's all you have to say?"

She was starting to get irritated. "What else would you have me say?" she snapped. "Did you think I would just fall into your arms, declaring my own, unyielding passion for you in return?"

"Well—"

"You can't have been that stupid!" she cut across him. "I can't account for everything I've said to you in the last few months—to be honest, I haven't really thought our conversations worth remembering—but I'm fairly certain I never once gave any sort of indication that I had any interest in you! And furthermore," she went on, when he opened his mouth to speak again, "do you really expect me to fall for a guy who told me, in no uncertain terms, that he likes me against his will?"

"What did you expect?" he snarled. "Should I have flattered you, told you sweet little lies about how wonderful you are? Perhaps that's the romantic thing to do, Miss Granger, but I refuse to lie, no matter what the consequence may be. Did you think I'd be happy about this? Happy about loving a woman whose behavior resembles that of a child, and her status is so much lower than mine!"

An ominous crack of thunder echoed around them, and the rain increased. Hermione stared at him for a long time, then her hand flew across his face. The sound it made was nearly as loud as the thunder.

"How dare you!" she hissed. "You want to talk about bad behavior? Let's talk about yours! From the very first moment I met you, I read you like a book! You're a stupid, arrogant, conceited prick, with absolutely no manners, and no idea what it means to be a gentleman! I had not known you an hour before I knew with absolute certainty that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever love!"

"Enough," he muttered. "I understand you completely. You've left no doubt as to how you feel. I apologize for my boldness."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away. Hermione let out an exasperated growl, stomping around for a moment. That horrible man! That horrible, inconsiderate, arrogant, idiotic twat! She couldn't believe him! How dare he! Furious, and suddenly unable to enjoy the rain, she stomped out of the park and went home.

A/N: One of the best parts of P&P! :D Sorry it's so short, but this really is the best place to end it. Please review!