Doodles by lilymione1203

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 05/10/2009
Last Updated: 05/10/2009
Status: Completed

ONE-SHOT. Completely ignores GoF and takes place beginning of fourth year/ Hermione's pov.
My first H/HR sincerely hope you enjoy!




1. One-Shot
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A/N: Warnings: FLUFF!!!!! If you want gut-wrenching drama or heart-pounding smut you’re in the
wrong place. Hermione’s pov, takes place fourth year and COMPLETELY ignores GoF. Please read and
review!!!!!!!!

Doodles

*Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch…*

My quill scraped fervently across my parchment, doodling tiny blackened snitches across the
heading of my transfiguration notes. I continued my meaningless handiwork, scrawling miniscule
curly “H’s” inside my deflated spheres. They weren’t *supposed* to look deflated, but needless
to say I’m a witch, not an artist.

I gazed dreamily at the dark haired boy beside me, writing profusely on his ashen parchment- his
disheveled onyx locks falling gracefully into his sparkling emerald eyes. I sighed and turned to my
left, only to view a lanky wizard resting his elbow on the table, his cheek mashed in his hand and
lids drooped in a stupor. Charming.

I was sitting between my two best friends, Ron on my left and Harry on my right, trapped in
another monotonous transfiguration lesson. I had already read this chapter three times, there’s
only so many indignant properties of snuffboxes! Be that as it may, there I was, trying to set a
good example and pay attention when all I wanted to do was write *Mrs. Hermione Potter* all
over my muddled parchment.

Yes, you could say I had a little…*crush*…on Harry, as it were. Ever since that malodorous
starry night at the end of last semester, where we alone saved Sirius Black from sure contemptible
death. I remember it well- telling each other our divine and lurid secrets, pouring out our
surreptitious feelings sitting inches apart in the quiet forbidden forest, surrounded by a dewy
mist and chirping crickets. How utterly romantic! And at the time I didn’t even realize it…

Over the summer holidays my thoughts became more and more of Harry. I reveled in the closeness
we had shared- the gentle touches and knowing looks, the candid openness of it all. I couldn’t help
but feel overwhelmed at the sheer simplicity of our relationship and the beauty of that
consequential evening. I chided myself for not acting on it. For burying my feelings as I always
do. Being logical isn’t always easy.

When I finally laid eyes on Harry on that highly-anticipated September 1, he looked even better
than I remembered (which I did quite a bit of these past few months). He was taller and slightly
broader, his hair still that untidy mess that I grew to adore. Hey, mine wasn’t much better, a mane
of chestnut curls that frizzed on frequent occasion- heaven forbid we ever have children, we might
as well just shave their heads.

I recall seeing him on the platform, jade green orbs darting in all directions until landing on
my chocolate brown ones, a smile playing on his lips as he moved in my direction, drawing closer
and closer amidst the fervent crowd, striding in slow motion as the sea of harried students bustled
all around us. I was simply beaming as he reached to take my hands, my dainty fingers about to coil
around his own when-

“Oi! ‘mione, Harry!” Ron called as he grabbed me from the side and pulled me into a chokehold,
brushing a gangly hand against my buttocks. Harry sported what I thought was a grimace, but it
quickly vanished as he clasped hands with Ron, both grinning like idiots. I tried to hide my
disappointment by busying myself with my trunk, leaving the *boys* to talk about things such
as Quidditch and girls, a fake smile plastered to my face as I followed in their wake. But I
could’ve sworn Harry threw an apologetic glance behind him…

Wishful thinking I suppose.

The year went on and Harry became engulfed in Quidditch, leaving Ron and I to study…*alone*
in the uneventful common room. I only saw him during mealtimes and classes, but couldn’t even go to
the loo without Ron breathing down my neck. Honestly, get a life! He was trying so hard to get my
attention, and frankly I just didn’t want it. I thought I did a year or so ago, but what tried to
develop was soon extinguished with ‘that night.’ You know the one I’m talking about.

So here I am, sitting between the pair, getting the attention I crave from the one I could care
less about. Now don’t get me wrong, I like Ron and all- he’s a very good source of comic relief,
but he pushes my buttons like nobody’s business- and I prefer not to live in a constant state of
anguish.

I turned my attention back to my paper, completely void of notes to my misfortune, and continued
to scribble on my parchment, picking up where I left off. Maybe the boys would *think* I was
paying attention, I thought I looked rather convincing, myself. I already *know* this lesson
like the back of my hand, I’m simply too distraught to properly concentrate!

I made sure to cover the crinkled edges with the sleeves of my lengthy robes; I’d die of
embarrassment if anyone saw what I was actually writing. Carrying on my handiwork, I scratched a
considerably realistic-looking wing when suddenly the warmth of a hand could be felt creeping up my
thigh. My *left* thigh.

“RON, would you STOP!?” I spat fervently, standing up from my chair in the process and looming
over the boy like a hawk.

“*Miss* Granger! Would you ki-“

“Ron was cheating, professor,” an avid voice piped up beside me. Harry was standing as well, his
hands placed on the desk in a business-like manner as he threw me a pertinent glance.

“Miss Granger, is this true?” McGonagall inquired as Ron’s jaw hit the floor and his eyes bugged
out at odd angles, frozen like a deer in the headlights. My mouth was slightly open, my eyes
widened in bewilderment as I merely nodded my head in agreement.

Why did I do this? I have no idea. You know I’m not one for lying. But Harry had just stood up
for me, and I don’t think he even knows what happened. Or did he? I pondered this predicament,
replaying the events in my mind as McGonagall assessed the situation.

“Weasley! Detention with Filch this evening, I’ve got a Heads’ meeting in the dungeons. You can
report to the manure compost behind Hagrid’s hut at eight p.m. sharp. Cheating will *not* be
tolerated in my classroom. As for you, Miss Granger, five points from Gryffindor for your prudent
outburst. Moving on…” and she whipped back to the chalkboard without so much as a glance behind
her, continuing her thorough discussion on matchbooks.

“What the *hell?”* Ron whispered in bewilderment, his blue eyes bulging out of their
sockets as a look of incredulity passed over his flabbergasted features.

I rolled my eyes in annoyance, turning back to my scribbled parchment and noticed Harry was
already back to taking careful notes, slowly running his quill over the rigid leaflet, the tip of
his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth.

My slender brow raised in perplexity, I ignored Ron’s angry huff beside me and slyly peered over
Harry’s arm, outstretched on the table in hopes of covering his creation. What a hypocrite I am,
dying to catch a glimpse of what my partner is stealthily scrawling when I would scold whomever
would return the favor. Especially when Ron just got caught ‘cheating’ of all things. Merlin, help
me.

I continued my ardent stare, tilting my chin ever so slightly to view what he was writing, and
my big brown eyes nearly popped out of my head. I greedily searched the blackened parchment, not a
transfiguration note in sight. Harry was doodling little figure eights, but the tops were oddly
flattened. Apparently he wasn’t an artist either.

I looked over to see what the genius on my left was up to, his head yet again resting lazily on
a propped up fist, eyes glazed over and lids drooping considerably. His face hovered over his
transfiguration ‘notes,’ completely void of anything but a spot of drool in the center, trailing up
to his partly open mouth. Touching.

I returned my gaze to Harry’s mysterious paper and narrowed my eyes, furrowing my brow and
straining my sight in the process. What were those figure-eights? Miniscule “I’s”- or were those
“T’s”?- were scrawled hastily in the centers- what in Merlin’s name was this? And then it hit me-
those weren’t figure-eights, they were *hour glasses.* He was drawing miniature timeturners
with “H’s” in the centers.

“Oh!” I squeaked like a mouse, my cheeks burning with a heat that could challenge the sun’s. My
face was surely a bright shade of scarlet- I’m positive you could fry an egg off my forehead. Ron
jerked his head to the right, raising his brow and showing a look of concern.

“Alright, ‘mione?”

“Yes, er…hot flash,” I countered, not meeting his gaze.

He seemed satisfied with this, nodding his head and scratching the back of his neck, ruffling
his red hair all the while. Of course he would be stupid enough to believe that. I’m not
*forty-eight* years old, Ron. Idiot.

I caught Harry’s eye, still blushing furiously, and rapidly flitted my eyes between his
parchment and mine. He caught on rather quickly and glimpsed at my notes, a broad grin spreading
across his handsome face.

The bell rang for dismissal and our trio began gathering our things, Harry and I staring at each
other all the while, not daring to look away. We reached the exit at a casual pace, Harry slowly
reaching for my arm when-

“So, what the bloody hell was all *that* abo-“

“*Mister* Weasley! Where do you think *you’re* going? We need to discuss details about
this evening, kindly step back in here, if you would.”

Ron exhaled a deep sigh and rolled his eyes, unable to finish his burning question as he
retreated back to a stern-looking Professor McGonagall- whose eyes were gazing intently over her
thin wired spectacles. Her lips were pursed and her arms akimbo, a tiny foot tapping briskly on the
stone-covered floor.

Harry slid his arm around mine, sending a wave of tumultuous butterflies into a harried frenzy
within the pit of my stomach. His fingertips brushed the inside of my forearm, tickling my wrist
before intertwining his fingers with my own. We walked languidly down the bustling corridor, our
hands lightly swaying like a tree in the breeze.

Bliss welled in my heart, nearly bursting its seams as I looked beyond his glinting golden
frames to the startling green eyes I fell madly in love with. We continued in silence, our
leisurely stroll, and I have never felt happier in my entire fifteen years of existence. We didn’t
need words, Harry and I- all we had were doodles.

A/N: sappiest thing I’ve ever written LOL. This was my first H/Hr, I’ve read nearly ALL that’s
available but I’ve never tried my hand at them. This came to me in a dream- weird, right? At any
rate, I sincerely hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think!!!!



