Hermione fainted in shock, and I felt flustered and dizzy. Harry just gawked at his best friend the second the word left Ron's lips. "Hermione?" Harry shouted. "As in Hermione Granger?? As in the person right over there?" He pointed an accusing finger at Hermione.
Ron blushed heavily. "Um, yes," he admitted. "I am going to tell you the truth—I've admired Hermione for a very long time. And now is the perfect opportunity to start something."
Hermione blushed even harder than Ron, although he was a redhead and she was a brunette. "Oh, Ron," Hermione mumbled, sighing embarrassedly. Then Ron did the most curious thing. He pulled her into a warm embrace and kissed her full on the lips.
Hermione, Harry, and I all gasped simultaneously. "Ohmigosh," I whispered to Harry, who looked as pale as a ghost. Hermione's gasp was stifled, of course, as her mouth was covered with Ron's. My girly instincts taking over, I cooed, "Aw, that's so sweet."
Ron broke the kiss and weeded his hand through Hermione's. "So will you go with me to the ball?" he asked romantically. Hermione smiled meekly. "Of course I will, Ronald."
"We'll leave you two alone for a second," Harry said seductively, backing out of the room, pulling me with him, and shutting the door. Harry and I started talking, mostly about how shocked and unprepared we were for Ron's little surprise and Hermione's big response. After about half an hour in the common room, an owl flew through the window with a letter attached to its foot! I expected it to be addressed to Harry or Ron or Hermione, but it had my name scrawled on it with fancy letters. I tore it open excitedly, hoping for something from my home. It was my father's messy handwriting.
Dear Miley, it read, I miss you terribly! And Jackson, well, he's still Jackson, I guess. There's really no other way to describe him, as you might have realized. Without your smiley and bubbly personality in the house, it's been desolate and empty. I am hoping to reunite with you as soon as possible. I tried writing a postage-stamp-covered letter to you and snail mailing it, but the post office couldn't send it. Then I remembered the personalized note the administration office of your school sent me, and I scanned it. It advised me that owl-carried notes were efficient. Thankfully, I found some queer building near the regular post office that specialized in owl-carried notes. Also, when I tried emailing your laptop, it kept telling me "Send Failed." And text messaging obviously doesn't work with you, either. Well, I assume you are having the time of your life. Now, the real purpose of this letter is not for me to tell you about how much you are missed back home or how much I wish you'd quit ignoring me, but how, after I disclosed your whereabouts to your other "manager," Margot Klar, she became instantly excited. When I asked her to explain, she said that a venue nearby the school's location had requested Hannah Montana to perform for one night a month. I have enclosed a separate note with permission for you to be excused from classes or studies at the times requested. Also, make sure that you do not let any of your classmates in on the secret unless you are sure you can absolutely trust them! Preferably, keep your "other identity" a secret. I hope that this letter does not befall any harm and that it reaches you privately and safely. I love you, and I hope you have a great time at the concerts! If you can, please write back! I miss your humor and voice, and if I can have one of them, I will be satisfied. Love, your father.
A tear streaked down my cheek as I realized how much I missed my father (and even Jackson). I'd been so swept up in the overwhelming magic and drama that I hadn't thought about home. And then two more tears splashed against a wooden desk in the common room, one for each of my two best friends, Lily and Oliver. Little did I know of course, that Harry had been reading every single word over my shoulder.
Even the part about Hannah Montana.