Harry's hands trembled uncontrollably, he sat hunched over a piece of parchment layed gingerly over the tiny desk stashed secretively towards the corner of his room. He really hated the place, especially the people who lived within it... thought Harry as he mentally cursed his last remaining blood relatives.

Though, it was no time for such musings.. for Harry James Potter was going to confess... confess a fancy that he had developed since her announcement.

"I trust you Harry, I know you didn't put your name in the Goblet. I am on your side"

Harry smiled at the memory of her rambling her belief in him. She hadn't know the effect that such a simple statement had on him, to know that someone was in your corner unconditionally was an idea that made Harry's stomach compete in the Olympics.

Harry bit his lips until he tasted metal... He knew he had to make it perfect, it was his only shot at Hermione's heart. Krum's attention was only a reminder to the fact that Hermione was soon going to have hordes of men asking her on dates.

He frowned at the thought of a slightly older Hermione going on a date with a faceless man. He had never wanted to punch a man who didn't exist more than he wanted now.

No, he was going to make it the most romantic and beautiful thing that she had ever read... he was going to be her fantasy man. His face broke out in a triumphant grin as he imagined the man on the date's face contorting into his own.

He started slowly and lovingly dragging his quill across the parchment, making sure that each letter was perfect in it's shape and thickness. The constant scratching of paper did not stop till the early hours of the morning, his brow was covered with sweat and his eyes were red with exhaustion.

He lifted his fist up with a celebratory hoot before gracefully folding the letter, trudging up towards Hedwig he felt his head growing light with anxiousness.
It was too late though, Hedwig had grabbed the letter without question and had begun flying as if she knew her humans second thoughts about the letter. Oh, how perceptive the snowy owl was!

The same couldn't be said for her owner though, who promptly tried leaping off the window sill to snatch the letter back before pulling himself back at the last moment..

"Fuck what did i do", yelled Harry as his face turned white

"BOY GET DOWN HERE", yelled Vernon

Harry sighed and watched as a white dot disappeared into the clouds before closing the curtains...

Harry Potter was in trouble..

Well, "Harry Potter was in Trouble" was quite the understatement. Not because of the tounge lashing that he received from his uncle for his "untimely screaming" followed with the usual rant about what a freak Harry was. No, this was a regular for the bespectacled boy who viewed the scene in amusement rather than the guiltiness he used to feel when he was a child.

No, rather his true fear lay quietly within the grasps of Hedwig who was quite possibly miles away from him... going towards a certain witch. Harry was not delusional, he knew he was never going to "struggle with the witches" ever in his life. The amount of girls viewing Parvati with envy during the Yule ball had re-assured him of the fact, but the problem was Hermione wasn't one of those "witches".

Infact, metaphorically speaking.. she was nothing short of an angel who nursed Harry out of the goodness of her heart... the problem was that he was pretty sure that this particular angel was not going to be impressed due to the fact he was "The Boy Who Lived" or his Potter Goodlooks.

This angel would be impressed by a charming, ambitious and studious man... something he wasn't sure he was. He was mad at his younger self for not trying harder at school.

He ran his hands through his pitch black hair...

Miles, roads, houses and towns away sat a pretty bushy brown haired lass who was combing her hair into soft curls. Her room was spacious, not particularly girly but not manly by any means... large shelves of books covered her walls. The air was crisp but with a natural tinge to it.

Her brows furrowed in a way that boy's would find endearing, not that Hermione would know of course. She was quite the avid bibliophile. Thus it came as a surprise, when her brows furrowed even deeper as she squinted her honey brown eyes at a white dot in the sky.

'That's not a star I recognize...", muttered Hermione at herself before she realized what it was.
Long white feathers flapped themselves towards her, growing larger every passing second. "HARRY!", squealed the 15 year old girl who made the quite the impression of a toddler opening their gifts on Christmas morning.

Hedwig landed smoothly ontop of her desk as he flipped her head up and pushed out her chest in brilliant showmanship. Hermione could swear that Hedwig was wearing a proud smirk on her face as she slowly snatched the letter from the snowy owl while giving her a few pets out of admiration.

She looked at the envelope with pure joy, she was finally going to read whatever Harry had been bottling up since she last saw him at Kings Cross. She opened the letter and gave a squeak of happiness at his familiar scrawl, which looked like a sorry attempt at calligraphy.

"The boy was hopeless with anything related with writing, ESPECIALLY his handwriting", laughed Hermione to herself.

My Dearest Hermione,

"Dearest? I'm his what?", thought the witch.

From the moment we met on the Hogwarts Express, you've been a beacon of unwavering support and understanding. Your belief in me during the Triwizard Tournament, when everyone else doubted my innocence, touched my heart in ways I can't express. Your unwavering faith in me, Hermione, is like a Lumos spell illuminating the darkest corners of my soul. When the world turned its back, you stood by my side, your eyes filled with determination and trust. You didn't just see the boy who lived; you saw the boy who struggled, who felt fear, and who desperately needed a friend.
Remember that chilly evening by the Black Lake? The moonlight danced on the water, and you whispered, "Harry, you're not alone." Your hand brushed against mine, and in that fleeting touch, I found solace.

Your intellect, Hermione, is a magical force. You're the ink to my parchment, the spell that binds my thoughts. Your mind is a library of wisdom, and I'm forever grateful for the chapters we've written together.

Our late-night conversations in the Gryffindor common room—when the fire crackled and the castle slept. The way your eyes sparkled when you spoke, the way your laughter echoed through the room. Those moments were like Patronus charms, pushing away the shadows.

Hermione, you're my constant. When the Triwizard Cup spat my name out, battered and bewildered, you were there. Your arms wrapped around me, shielding me from doubt and despair. You whispered, "Harry, we'll face this together." And we did. We faced dragons, mermaids, and dark curses, but nothing compared to the courage you showed when you defended my dignity.

So here's my confession: Hermione Granger, I love you. Not just as a friend, but as man and woman. You're the Lumos that guides me, the warmth in the common room, and the reason I believe in magic beyond spells and potions.

Forever yours,
Harry