She WILL be mine... by kyc639

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 22/03/2004
Last Updated: 26/04/2004
Status: Completed

Harry realizes his feelings for Hermione and develops an elaborate plan to get her to notice
him




1. The Beginnings of a Plan...
------------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I own none of the characters or
places that appear in my story, and I make no money off of this. In fact, I’m probably losing money
since I’m writing this while at work.

**Summary:** Harry realizes his feelings for Hermione and develops an elaborate plan to get
her to notice him.

My first story on Portkey! Yay! Anyways, a big thanks to my beta Tawny Spitfyre for fixing all my lazy
mistakes, and shame on me if I ignored any of her corrections. And if you don’t like it, you can
blame Sandra for poking me and making me put this here :P

**She *WILL* be Mine - Part I**

Hogsmeade weekend. Two words that can brighten any day, lighten any mood. Well, unless you’re a
first or second year, or happen to have a
wrongly-accused-mass-murderer-who-betrayed-your-parents-but-really-didn’t after you. But since I
was a seventh year now, and because no one was out to do me in (for a change), those two little
words made me a happy camper. Even though Dumbledore, that bastard (not that I’m bitter), decided
*not* to make me Head Boy (because *obviously* saving the world from Voldemort isn’t Head
Boy material…did I mention that I wasn’t bitter?), in this case it was probably a blessing in
disguise. I never could simply kick back and relax in the past, what with the Dursleys and then
Voldemort, so I didn’t need the responsibility of Head Boy interfering with my desire for some
juvenile entertainment. I was also ‘of age’ now, so I figured it was time for something a bit
stronger than butterbeer.

I was eagerly waiting to go, standing in the entrance with my best friend, that redheaded
freaky-tall Ron Weasley. We were waiting for our other best friend, Hermione Granger, who, as the
years have gone by, seems to take longer and longer to get ready for things. Now, to no one’s
surprise, Hermione was Head Girl, but I wasn’t really worried that she’d be an obstacle to my
making a fool out of myself. After all, she knows all the crap I’ve had in my life, so I thought
she’d let me have one night of stupidity, though I was sure I would get a lecture in the morning.
Besides, she let me sneak into Hogsmeade when it meant both risking my life *and* breaking
rules, so I doubted she’d have much to say about this.

“God, where is she?” Ron complained, watching as student after student went on their merry
way.

“I dunno, but it’s definitely cutting into my drinking time!”

Ron laughed. “Whoa! Big talk from a wizard who hasn’t ever tasted anything stronger than
butterbeer!”

I punched Ron in the shoulder. “Shut it! We’ll see who’s standing at the end of the night, and
who needs to be carried home.”

Before Ron could retort, Hermione came bounding up to us. “Sorry,” she said lightly. “Ready to
go?”

We nodded and headed out towards Hogsmeade, Ron taking the usual jibes at Hermione’s
punctuality. It really is a mystery; this girl is so anal about being on time for class, and yet
she can be counted on to be late for things like a Hogsmeade trip. I just laughed at the familiar
light-hearted bickering between my two best friends. Ron checked his watch as we entered the
village. “Where to first? We have about an hour before we have to meet the others at Hog’s
Head.”

“Well,” I said as we walked, “there’s Honeydukes and the Quidditch shop, and the bookstore for
Hermione…” I trailed off as I noticed Hermione fidgeting a bit. “What’s up, Hermione?”

“Well, I…uh…”

“Spit it out Hermione,” Ron said.

“I won’t be able to go to Hog’s Head with you guys. I sorta have a date…”

Ron and I both stopped walking at the same time, which caused Hermione to stop and look back at
the two of us. “A…a *date*?” I asked incredulously.

“With who?” Ron demanded.

“Ernie. Ernie Macmillan.”

I was still in a bit of shock, so I’m glad Ron was able to recover quickly. “Macmillan? Head Boy
Macmillan? Why didn’t you tell us?” Ron looked upset.

“*That’s* why!” Hermione said. “Because I knew you two would go into ‘overprotective older
brother’ mode, and I would never hear the end of it. Plus, you two would harass poor Ernie.”

“We would not,” Ron said, sounding affronted. “We’d simply have a chat with him, that’s all.
Right, Harry? Um…Harry?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said, coming out of a daze. “Uh, listen, you just go ahead Hermione. We’ll talk
about it tomorrow.”

Hermione gave me a smile. “Thanks Harry,” she said. She gave Ron a glare, and then took off down
the street, suspiciously in the direction of Madam Puddifoot’s.

“Why’d you do that for?” Ron demanded.

“There’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s…let’s just go to the Quidditch shop, okay?”

Ron agreed, but he grumbled a bit under his breath along the way. As for myself, it took me a
while to figure out exactly what I was feeling. I admit I was pretty shaken when Hermione mentioned
her date, but the question was *why?* Why should I care? Shouldn’t I be happy for her? After
all, she’s my best friend; she’s always been there for me in the past, I should be there for her
now, supporting her. Just because she’s spent her time with us in the past, doesn’t mean that she’s
obligated to always be with us. It’s not like I expect her to always be with me, right? It’s not
like I think she should always be by my side and not with anyone else, unless it’s Ron or another
girl. It’s not like I *need* Hermione to be with me in order to have fun and be myself, or
that I miss her already so much that my initial excitement about the day is gone, or that I
suddenly feel like kicking a little Hufflepuff arse. No, it’s not because of any of those
reasons.

And then, right there in the middle of the Quidditch shop, looking at a pair of Seeker gloves,
it struck me: it was all of those reasons, and more. I was in love with her. I was in *love*
with Hermione Granger, my best friend of seven years.

Damn. How did that happen, and why didn’t I notice it earlier? And now she was off on a date
with that Goddamn Ernie Macmillan. And though that was my most immediate concern, I had a bigger
worry: did Hermione view me as anything more than just a friend? Did she even think I was
attractive?

I figured I could simply ask her, and then right after that, Snape and I could reminisce about
the good times with my Dad over a few butterbeers. No, I was much too deathly afraid of rejection.
Since Hermione had never shown *that* kind of interest in me, I would have to do something to
let her know that I’m nothing more than a love machine, or more realistically, that I’m date-worthy
material. I needed to come up with a plan. All of a sudden, I understood what Voldemort must have
felt like when he was plotting things. I steepled my fingers and gave a little evil laugh. “She
*will* be mine,” I said softly, “Oh yes, she *will* be mine.”

“What was that mate?”

Crap. “Um, I said that she will be fine.”

“Yeah, probably. Macmillan’s a good guy, prim and proper. But we’ll still have a little chat
with him, right?”

“Of course.” We left the Quidditch shop for Honeydukes, and Ron rambled on about something or
another. My mind, however, was in high gear, contemplating how best to get Hermione to notice
me.

*********

So, predictably, the rest of the night was a bust. Leave it to Hermione to ruin my night of
drunken carousing when she’s not even there. I knew I couldn’t do anything that night short of
‘coincidentally’ running into them on their date, but I wanted Hermione to notice that I’m a man,
not that I’m a jerk. But despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stop thinking about Goddamn Ernie
Macmillan with my Hermione. Hufflepuffs are supposed to be patient…those hands of his *better*
be patient, or I’ll give him a just and loyal fist to the jaw!

Fortunately, no one seemed to notice my preoccupation; the other Gryffindors were either too
drunk to notice, or they must have figured that I’m one of those quiet and pensive drunks. I
managed to excuse myself early on, and since no one’s out to kill me this year - knock on wood -
Ron wasn’t too concerned. I just happen to be wandering Hogsmeade a bit in the twilight (not
because I was looking for Hermione or anything) when I spotted her with Goddamn Ernie Macmillan and
a group of seventh year Hufflepuffs. The good news was that she wasn’t alone with Goddamn Ernie
Macmillan, but the bad news was that she looked like she was having a good time. She didn’t see me,
so I managed to slink away unnoticed, back to the castle.

I spent the rest of the night devising my grand master plan. Actually, I wasted about two hours
trying to think of a cool name for the plan, rather than doing any actual planning. I mean, I just
couldn’t call it ‘The Plan’ – that’s lame. I needed a good acronym, something that could inspire
the troops, and something better than S.P.E.W. I mean, come on! If Voldemort could turn ‘Tom
Marvolo Riddle’ into ‘I am Lord Voldemort,’ surely I could devise something equally clever. I kept
having problems with the ‘H’ in Hermione; not a lot of words have an ‘H’ in the middle of them.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of anything…I blame the butterbeer.

The next step was to actually come up with ‘The Plan (name pending)’ itself. Now, I didn’t
intend to change my personality; after all, I wanted Hermione to love me for me, not for some image
of me. All I really wanted was just to get Hermione to *consider* the possibility that raising
a bunch of bushy, black haired children with bad teeth and bad eyes with me would be nice. Once she
noticed me, then I could rely on the whole best friend thing to convince her that we’re soul mates.
I decided to start by making a mental list:

**Things on my side:**

· I’ve known Hermione for seven years now. I know her better than anyone else, even Ron.

**Things against me:**

· While I know Hermione the *person*, I don’t really know Hermione the girl. I have no idea
what kind of guy she’s looking for because that’s not the kind of thing we ever talk about.


· Times like these, a father or godfather would come in handy for advice. Alas, I seem to be
lacking in both those areas. Lupin would be good, but unfortunately he’s off in Australia or
something.


· And though this kind of situation calls for a best friend, I obviously can’t go to Ron. It’s
not that I think he likes Hermione; for some reason, that infatuation mysteriously went away right
after he was locked in an empty classroom with Lavender. It’s just that his ‘older brother’
mentality will be a hindrance, once he’s done laughing at me, of course.


· Asking for advice from anyone else is out of the question. Not only would I not feel
comfortable, but given how small the school is, the fact that I fancy Hermione would be common
knowledge by Monday.

Looking over the list, I realized that I was pretty much screwed. Not only did I have little
idea where to begin, but I had to come up with a plan all on my own, which, based on my prior
plans, did not bode well for the future. In the past, my plans generally consisted of:

· Find wand.


· Put wand in hand.


· Attack!

Although, for more complex situations, I might add the step ‘get Invisibility Cloak.’ Either
way, this plan would require just a tad more forethought than my usual effort.

So, what did I know about the kinds of guys that Hermione likes? Did she look for brains, looks,
or a sense of humor? Thinking back over the years, I finally identified three men that Hermione had
shown an interest in: Gilderoy Lockhart, Victor Krum, and Goddamn Ernie Macmillan. True, I still
wasn’t one hundred percent clear on what exactly went on between Krum and Hermione, but she
*did* go to the Yule Ball with him, and a sample size of two just wouldn’t do at all. So, now
all I had to do was figure out what each of the three had in common, and I was all set. No problem,
right?

Doomed. I was absolutely doomed.

******



2. Plan A
---------

She *WILL* be Mine - Part II

I woke up the next morning feeling very tired; I think I expended too much energy thinking last
night – I’m not used to such effort. I went down to breakfast with Ron and Hermione like usual,
except this time I purposely lagged behind a bit so I could observe Hermione’s arse. I had never
done that before, and it was pretty fun. It was also pretty difficult, what with her wearing her
robes and all, but I had a pretty good imagination to make up for it.

Breakfast was going along fine until Ron started asking about that Goddamn Ernie Macmillan. I’d
forgotten that we were supposed to talk about it, and I realized that I didn’t want to hear
anything about their date. I lost my appetite and claimed that I had forgotten something back at
the dorms. Ron looked a little ticked off, obviously expecting my support when grilling Hermione.
It usually takes the two of us working together to talk to Hermione about things like this; she’s
too smart for just one of us and usually ends up having us agree with her without knowing it unless
we’re careful. I gave Ron an ‘I’m sorry’ look and fled the Great Hall, but not before noticing
Hermione’s predatory look at Ron. Poor guy. Over the next several hours, while I should have been
doing homework, I devised my plan. I tried to think what Lockhart, Krum, and that Goddamn Ernie
Macmillan had in common, and frankly I came up blank. So, I decided to take them one at a time.

Gilderoy Lockhart. What was it about that flake that Hermione liked so much? Okay, true, I’ve
*heard* that he’s a decent-looking fellow. Not that I noticed that myself, you understand;
it’s not like I look at a guy and have any opinion whatsoever on things like that. Not that there’s
anything wrong, mind you, if somebody *does* do that, all I’m saying is that I don’t. I just
happened to overhear a bunch of girls talking about him, that’s all. Clear?

Good. Okay, where was I? Oh, right. Lockhart. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much I could do in the
ways of improving my looks; I was sorta stuck with what Mamma and Big Daddy Potter gave me. For the
briefest of seconds I considered using a glob of Sleekeasys on my hair to get that wavy thing
Lockhart had going, but I think that crosses the line between hygiene and primping. Maybe Hermione
was impressed by all the things he did (which, at the time, we actually thought he did)? At first,
I didn’t think this would help me, since Hermione’s been by my side for all of my ‘adventures.’ But
then I realized that she really hasn’t, at least, not in the end. It’s always been just me at the
end, from first year all the way to the time I beat Voldemort like an old drum. Though, in third
year we were together throughout, but that was all right, since I think I already milked the whole
‘Harry can cast a corporeal Patronus’ thing to death. And though I told both Ron and Hermione the
after-action reports, I usually kept the details to the minimum. Maybe if she knew all the details,
perhaps embellished a bit, she would see me in a new light? Sounds like a plan to me.

Now I just needed the perfect moment to bring up the past adventures; it would sound a bit
forced if I just went up to Hermione and said, “Hey, remember that time when I was tied to a tree
by Death Eaters and saw Wormtail cut off his own hand? Good times…good times.” So, I waited until
after dinner, when all the Gryffindors were hanging around the fire, just chatting away. Hermione
was there too, though she was splitting her attention between the conversation and an Arithmancy
book.

“…ours is the best,” Dean was saying. “You gotta admit: the lion’s pretty wicked.”

“An eagle’s not bad,” Pavarti said. “Very majestic.”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “But I feel bad for Hufflepuff. I mean, honestly, a badger? What can you do
with that? Do badgers even growl?”

“Well, it’s better than a snake. Eww!” Lavender made a face of disgust.

I saw my chance. “If you don’t like snakes, you would have absolutely hated the basilisk I
killed back in second year.”

All right, I admit it, I wasn’t exactly Dr. Smooth with the transition there, but I was getting
pretty antsy. We’d been chatting for an hour now, and I was getting desperate. A period of silence
followed, where I fear that I made a tactical error, but I knew I could always count on one of the
Creeveys.

“Wow, Harry,” Colin said in his usual excited voice. “If you hadn’t killed the basilisk, I’d
probably still be petrified!” Okay, technically not true, since Professor Sprout would’ve still
grown the Mandrakes, but who was I to argue? After that the questions came fast and furious. I was
pretty sure that I would get that reaction, since apart from Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore, I never
told anyone about the crap I’ve been through. My housemates were more than curious and very, very
eager to hear the story. For once, I was glad that the Creevey brothers were nearby. Usually
they’re pests, but they definitely helped ‘The Plan (name pending),’ since the little guys could be
counted on to gush on about anything I did or said, no matter how trivial (“The casserole tastes
good today.” “Really, Harry? You think so? That’s awesome, Harry! You’re the best, Harry!”).

Since Ron was there, I was careful to make sure his part sounded more heroic then it actually
was; Ron still got a bit jealous at times. Rather than say how Lockhart was defeated by a broken
wand, I made Ron sound more proactive, which wasn’t hard since really all he did at the time was
just sit there. Our housemates were more than obliging, gasping and being very impressed with me
slaying the dreaded basilisk and defeating the enchanted diary. Even Ginny was impressed, since she
had been unconscious until the end. Occasionally I would throw a glance over at Hermione, and I was
a little disconcerted to see her frowning most of the time. Hopefully that was because of the
Arithmancy. After about an hour regaling the Gryffindors with my tales of bravery and taking
questions, Hermione closed up shop and said she was tired. I excused myself from the others and
chased after her.

“Hermione!” I called out, catching up with her just before she reached the steps to the girls’
dormitories. “Are you all right? I noticed you seemed a bit…frowny back there.”

Hermione sighed. “I just…it’s nothing Harry. Good night.”

She turned to go up the stairs, but I caught her arm. “What is it, Hermione? You can tell me.
Please.”

She looked at me a bit apprehensively. “Now, don’t get me wrong, Harry, but…but I guess I never
expected you to be like that.”

Huh? “Huh? Like what?”

“I don’t know…just being so proud about your accomplishments.”

“I shouldn’t be proud?”

“No, no,” she said quickly. “You *should* be proud, you’ve done so many great things; saved
so many lives.”

Now I was really confused. “Then what-”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I never thought you’d…boast so much. I always saw you as
the quiet, humble type, who didn’t need that kind of attention to make yourself feel good.” She
must’ve seen my face fall, for she added, “Maybe I’m just tired, Harry. I’ll see you in the
morning.”

I watched her walk up the stairs and then I slumped onto the stairway leading to the boys’
dorms. She seemed so…*disappointed* in me. What happened? What went wrong? Lockhart always
went on and on about his accomplishments! ‘The Plan (name pending)’ seemed to backfire; I think I
lost points with her tonight. I looked back at the group of Gryffindors by the fire, and got even
more depressed as I was sure they would want to talk about the basilisk some more. Without saying
anything, I trudged upstairs to my room. Today was definitely a bust, but there was always Plan
B.

********

**A/N:** Wow! Talk about being overwhelmed by reviews! I’m used to getting eight to ten per
chapter at the most over on fanfic, so my head is swimming a bit. Thanks everyone who reviewed, and
I hope you enjoyed this next bit.



3. Plan B
---------

Here’s the next bit with two bits to go. A big thanks
to my beta Tawny Spitfyre!

**She *Will* be Mine - Part III**

I waited a couple of days before trying out Plan B; I first had to “reset” my relationship with
Hermione back to ‘Condition: normal’ before trying to elevate it to ‘Condition: snogs away!’ It
took a couple days of being *extra* humble, but in the end I had her smiling as usual. So, now
that I had her right where I wanted her (well, almost), it was time for Plan B, a little something
I liked to call ‘Plan B: Victor Krum’ (obviously being sober hadn’t helped my creativity when it
came to naming my plans). Again, I didn’t know if she was *actually* attracted to the guy or
not, but she *did* get herself all dolled-up for him and accompany him to the Yule Ball. I
mean, Hermione doesn’t put Sleekeasy’s in her hair for just anyone, so there had to be
*something* about VK that Hermione found at least a little bit attractive; the trick was
finding it.

Was it his fame? I dismissed that immediately, since I was many times more famous than he was.
All he really had was his Quidditch, while not only did I save the wizarding world by defeating the
most feared wizard of the past half-century, but I head-to-head I beat VK in the Tri-wizard
Tournament, and I was only fourteen at the time. I’d pretty much wipe the dungeons with him now;
bring it on, Krum!

Was it his Quidditch? Again, not likely. Hermione was never the biggest Quidditch fan in the
first place, and besides, I’m a much better Seeker then he is. True, *maybe* he was better
back when he was here for the Tournament, but I was only fourteen then; I’m loads better now. No,
it wasn’t either his fame or his Quidditch, since I rate higher in both categories.

Wait, wasn’t I supposed to be humble? Oh yeah…stupid VK, he brings out the worst in me.

I guess it boiled down to personality, but to be honest, I had a hard time believing that. I
mean, he’s not exactly…*fun* to be around. In fact, he’s downright grouchy. Does Hermione like
grouchy? Nah. Maybe she liked how he always followed her around? But no, I remember her being
pretty annoyed by that. Frankly, besides his fame, VK didn’t seem to have anything that would
appeal to Hermione; the guy even had bad posture and walked funny, sorta like a duck.

Well, on the one hand, he was a bit of the opposite of Lockhart. Where Lockhart was very proud
of his (stolen) accomplishments, VK accepted his fans but didn’t encourage them. His grumpy
attitude actually discouraged them if anything, and he was a bit aloof to all the girls who wanted
his autograph. Okay then, now I was cooking. I had my Plan B: grumpy and aloof, play ‘hard to get.’
Girls like that, right?

I set about it early one day. I was cranky during breakfast, grouchy during class, and irritable
during lunch. I wasn’t exactly rude to the countless students who seemed to follow me around, but I
wasn’t very accommodating either. During lunch I feared I might have taken the grumpy bit a bit too
far, since Hermione seemed more annoyed by my attitude as opposed to looking like she was starting
to find me irresistible. I dialed down the grumpiness a bit after that. I remained in this state
for the rest of the day and the better part of the next, acting a *little* grouchy and not
talking to Hermione as much as I usually do, though I grunted a lot. I actually thought things were
going well until it all came to a head that night in the library.

I was sitting at the usual table with Hermione, doing homework. Ron was off with Lavender
studying Divination, reading each other’s tea leaves, if you know what I mean (actually, that was
pretty bad, but there’s not much innuendo when it comes to Divination, unless I want to be crude
and refer to Ron’s crystal ball). Things were going well - I was successfully ignoring Hermione and
grunting every now and then - when two girls that looked like they were around our year approached
the table.

“Hi Harry, hi Hermione,” one of them, the darker haired girl, said.

Hermione looked up and said hi; I just grunted.

“Harry?” the lighter haired girl asked, “we were wondering if you could help us with this
assignment in Defense?”

I looked up at the two girls. “Vhy – I mean why me?” I said in my best “go away” voice.

The girls looked a little taken aback, apparently not used to me being a grouch. “Well…uh,” the
lighter haired girl stammered.

“Listen,” I said irritably. “I still have a lot of homework to do. I’ll help you if I can later,
okay?”

“Er, okay Harry,” light hair said, looking a bit anxious.

“Sorry to bother you,” dark hair said, but her tone sure didn’t convey sorrow. The two girls
walked back to their own table, and I returned to my parchment. After a second or two, I could feel
someone looking at me, so I raised my head and saw Hermione giving me a look of disapproval.

“What?” I asked.

“That wasn’t very nice, Harry.”

“You mean those girls?” I asked, gesturing in their general direction.

“Yes. They were just asking for a little help. Even if you couldn’t help them now, you could’ve
been more polite about it.”

“Honestly, Hermione,” I said, thinking how VK would respond in a case like this. “Am I expected
to help every stranger who comes to me asking for help?”

Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise. “Stranger?”

“Yeah, stranger. I don’t even know if I *can* help them; even if they aren’t seventh years,
we haven’t exactly followed the same Defense curriculum every year.”

Now she positively boggled at me, and I was getting a bit worried. “Are you serious, Harry?”

“Uh…yeah?” I said, though I wasn’t a little afraid where this was going.

“Harry Potter! Those two girls are not strangers! I’ve shared a room with them for the past six
years!”

Now it was my turn to boggle. “What?”

“Harry, we’ve shared every single class with them since our first year. They’re your housemates,
for God’s sake!”

“Hold on, hold on,” I said quickly. “You mean to tell me that there are two more sixth year
Gryffindors girls at Hogwarts, and not once in the past six years have their names ever come up?
That there’ve been two unnamed Gryffindor girls all this time?” Hermione glared at me. “Well,” I
said a bit sheepishly, “they must be very quiet then.”

Hermione shook her head exasperatedly. “You mean to tell me you never noticed them before?”

I took a moment and thought hard. “There was that time in third year with the boggarts…I
think.”

“What’s gotten into you Harry?”

“I’m sorry. But I honestly can’t recall ever hearing them mentioned before. It’s not like you
ever talk about them or Ron-”

“That’s not what I mean, Harry,” she said, her face a strange mixture of concern and annoyance.
“You’ve been acting very strangely the past couple days; frankly, you’ve been a jerk, and I don’t
like it.”

Ah crap. Not exactly the reaction I was going for, was it? “Well…I…”

“Are you feeling all right? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?”

Stupid Plan B…stupid, stupid, stupid. “Um, no. I – I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk, Hermione. I
really am. I promise I’ll be back to normal from now on, okay?”

She looked a bit dubious, but she nodded. “Okay Harry. I hope so.”

For the rest of the night I buried myself in my homework. So far, ‘The Plan (name pending)’ was
a gigantic failure. Both Plans A and B backfired on me, and I find myself spending more time trying
to get back in Hermione’s good graces than I spend trying to seduce her. I briefly considered
ditching Plan C and just plain asking her on a date, but I had already come this far. So, next up,
Plan C; third time’s the charm, they say. I hope ‘they’ are right.

******

**Author’s Notes:** Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing! I think one comment I get a
lot is that Harry seems very out-of-character. While that’s probably true, I actually think he
*is* in character, and here’s why. First, we all know Harry has a rather dry and sarcastic
sense of humor, especially in OotP. Some of my favorites (I don’t have the books in front of me, so
please excuse any misquotes):

“Not this brave at night, are you?” sneered Dudley.


“This is night, Diddykins. That’s what we call it when it goes all dark like this.” (Chapter
1)


“Harry, don’t go picking a row with Malfoy, don’t forget, he’s a prefect now. He could make like
difficult for you…”


“Wow, I wonder what it’d be like to have a difficult life?” said Harry sarcastically. (Chapter
13)


“Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher,” said Harry loudly, “there was just that minor drawback of
him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head.” (Chapter 15)

And I think it can be agreed that Harry was a tad bitter in OotP. So, I see Harry has having a
dry, sarcastic sense of humor, sometimes bitter, which I tried to write. I added in a
greater-than-normal fear of rejection, because I figure after living with the Dursleys and then
having the wizarding world love him and hate him in the same breath, the guy’s got to be super
insecure.



4. Plan C
---------

**4/23/04**: here’s the next bit. Sorry for being so
late; I wanted to get FF.net caught up. Thanks for reviewing!

**She *Will* be Mine - Part IV**

Once again, I found myself waiting a couple of days before I could resume ‘The Plan -
Alternative C.’ As I promised Hermione, I acted my normal, wholesome self over those two days, and
she *did* remark that she liked me better this way. Little did she know what I had in store
for our Head Girl. Mwhahaha!

Er, yeah, anyways, Plan C. Plan C was based on the third person that Hermione fancied: Goddamn
Ernie Macmillan. In all honesty, I *do* like the guy (when he doesn’t have his grubby paws all
over *my* Hermione!), but he has been known to be a bit pompous at times. Being named Head Boy
(don’t get me started on that one…I didn’t want to be Head Boy anyways, so there!) only inflated
the size of his head, so much in fact that Ron took to calling him ‘Percy version 2.0.’

My rather disappointing results with Plan A led me to believe that being pompous wasn’t the way
to go, though I suppose common sense should have told me that, but let’s focus on the positive,
shall we? So, what did Goddamn Ernie Macmillan have that I didn’t have? I figured it had to be the
grades then. Goddamn Ernie Macmillan was also more conversant with hoity-toity things, like
politics and history and a bunch of other crap no one really cares about. Except Hermione. Though I
never got the impression that Hermione was disappointed with my level of intelligence, maybe that’s
what she liked in a wizard. After all, though I’m not sure how intelligent VK is, he *was* a
seventh year, so I’m sure he knew a lot of interesting things (though casting a corporeal Patronus
wasn’t among them…heh) So, Plan C began to take shape. Be more smarter! There’s no way this could
backfire, right? I mean, how could my becoming more intelligent possibly annoy Hermione? I started
my journey on smartification in the most obvious place: the library.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a spell or potion to make me smarter, so I briefly considered
giving up. But I’m the Boy-Who-Lived, not the Boy-Who-Quit! I never gave up on anything, unless it
involved books or homework or studying or reading or…ah hell, that pretty much describes Plan C,
right? Reading and studying and all that? Oh well, I had already cleared out my calendar for this,
so I might as well try it anyways.

I spent the next few days paying attention in class like I never had before. I even took notes
in Professor Binns’ class – it was crazy! Hermione must have thought that had a fever when she saw
that. But no, I assured her that I had turned over a new leaf; she lauged and said something about
‘better late than never.’ I also spent nearly as much time in the library as she did, excepting
time for Quidditch, of course. I took to reading *The Daily Prophet* as well in order to
become more up-to-date with current events. I even started reading some works of fiction that
Hermione droned on about every now and then. Okay, it was actually the wizarding cliff notes, but
still…

After about a week of reading and learning, I started dropping hints that I was brainy now. A
remark here about the latest news in *The Daily Prophet*, a comment there about the novel
Hermione was reading. Things were going along just swimmingly; but then again, I had *thought*
that things were going well with Plans A and B, and look how they turned out.

Hermione and I were talking in the Gryffindor common room one evening when I decided to show the
extent of my new-found intelligence. There was a news article that morning about the elections for
Minister of Magic. Usually I care not a whit about politics, but I took the opportunity to show
Hermione how well-informed I was. And let me tell you, I was magnificent! I talked about the
current political landscape and threw in references to past elections. I compared Muggle and
wizarding politics, and I ended with a rather brilliant commentary about the need for reform in the
Ministry. I couldn’t have done better if I had researched it earlier, written it all down, and then
memorized it, which of course I had. After I was done with my spiel, I looked over at Hermione,
expecting her to be in awe of my magnificence, stars shining in her eyes.

Unfortunately, I don’t think she was even paying attention. “Hermione?” I asked. “Did you hear
what I said?”

She started a bit and focused her eyes on me, giving off a tired chuckle. “I’m sorry Harry. It’s
just that I’m not much in the mood for politics tonight.”

I was incredibly disappointed. I mean, all that effort wasted! But of course, I couldn’t let her
know that. Besides, if she really wasn’t paying attention, I could always use it again later. “Ah,
okay.” She then gave me an appraising look, which made me a bit nervous. “What?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. You’ve been acting funny again.”

“Funny? Funny how? Funny like a clown?”

She grinned. “No…funny-odd. Though I shouldn’t complain, since you *are* studying more, but
still, you’re just a bit different.”

Hmmm…’different’ - that didn’t sound like she was suddenly discovering my manly charms. I sensed
Plan C was going down in flames. “Different good or different bad?” I ventured.

She cocked her head. “Just…*different*. I guess I’m not used to talking about literature
and politics with you, you know? I mean, I expect those types of discussions during Prefect
meetings, but with you, I feel like I can be a bit more…brainless.”

Oh sh!t. Brainless? Did she just call me brainless? I felt something twist inside my chest.
“Brainless?”

“Yeah,” she continued with a small smile, apparently oblivious to the fact that she was crushing
my heart beneath her fashionable shoes. “You know…I can goof off with you and talk about inane
things.”

I bent my head and rubbed my forehead. Did that actually just happen? Did she just call me
inane? Was I just comic relief to her, a way to relax after hanging out with her more intelligent
friends?

“Harry, are you all right?” I heard her ask.

“Yeah, fine,” I mumbled, still rubbing my temples. I found that I was having trouble
breathing.

“Harry, you’re not fine,” she said as she reached out for me.

The second her hand came in contact with my wrist, I pulled it away rather harshly. “Don’t.”

“Harry, what’s gotten into you?” she asked.

I stood. “So that’s how you see me, huh? As some brainless idiot?”

Hermione looked surprised. “Harry, no, of course not-”

“No, I get it now. I’m just someone you go to for some mindless chatter, for when you need a
break from *intelligent* discussion.” Some part of me knew that I was being unfair, that I was
overreacting, but God my chest felt like there was something twisting around inside it. I knew I
had to get out of there before I made a complete fool out of myself. I headed towards the portrait
hole.

“Harry, please wait,” I heard Hermione say, and then I felt her hand on my arm.

I ripped my arm out of her grasp. “Leave me alone,” I said evenly. As I climbed out of the
portrait hole, I knew that I needed to get out of there, out of the castle even. Hogsmeade, I could
go to Hogsmeade and drink firewhiskey until all of this was but a hazy memory. It was my only
choice.

******



5. I love it when a plan comes together
---------------------------------------

4/26/04

**She *Will* be Mine - Part V**

Hogsmeade. Firewhiskey. Drunk off my arse. These were basically the only thoughts running
through my head. I held onto these thoughts like my life depended on it, because I didn’t want to
dwell on any thoughts that Hermione’s words might drum up.

“Harry! Please wait!” I heard her say as I climbed out the portrait hole, but I ignored her. I
started walking briskly down the corridor. After only a few steps, Hermione was suddenly by my
side, pulling on my arm.

“Harry! Please stop!”

“Let go,” I said, trying to pull my arm away and walk at the same time.

“I’m sorry Harry! I didn’t mean it like that! Please don’t walk away!”

Man, this girl sure had a strong grip. I was flapping my arm like a chicken wing, and still she
wouldn’t let go. But I wasn’t going to stop, even if it meant I had to drag her all the way through
the hidden tunnel and out to-

Suddenly, my right leg hit something, and I lost my balance. I started to topple forward, and I
instinctively put out my hands to brace my fall. I landed rather painfully, my left elbow and right
palm taking the brunt of the fall. I lay there for a second, trying to process what just
happened.

“Ow.”

“Oh God, Harry, I’m sorry!” Hermione squealed, and out of the corner of my eye I saw her kneel
down next to me.

“Did you just trip me?” I asked quietly, incredulously.

“Well, you wouldn’t stop!” she said somewhat plaintively.

I rolled over on my back and heaved myself up to a sitting position, examining my hand and
elbow. Just a few scrapes, but they stung like hell.

“Are…are you all right?” she asked tentatively.

I gave her a look. “Yeah, just peachy. Let’s see…first you call me an idiot, and then you trip
me. While you’re at it, why don’t you just hop on over to the owlery so you can kill my beloved pet
too?” In case you hadn’t noticed, I was a little bitter at the moment.

Hermione had an injured look on her face. “That’s not funny Harry. That’s not funny at all. I
love Hedwig.” I just grunted in response. “Here, let me see,” she said, withdrawing her wand from
within her robes.

I held out my palm, and she made a tricky little movement with her wand, healing my scrapes. She
repeated the motion for my elbow as well. “Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Oh Harry, what I said back there, it came out all wrong. I just meant that when I’m around you,
I don’t have to be so smart-”

“Ah, great,” I said sarcastically. “Clears that right up.”

“Oh, that came out all wrong, too,” she said anxiously. “I mean that I can relax around you
because you’re not interested in important things like-”

I held up my hand, interrupting her. “Are you trying to make me feel better? Because if you are,
you’re not doing a very good job at it.”

“Oh God, that came out all wrong too. I’m making a big mess out of it,” she said, wringing her
hands in frustration.

I looked over at her; it was a rare sight, seeing Hermione flustered and stammering. And while I
wanted to be mad at her, to feel all misunderstood (as she would say), Hermione just looked so damn
*cute* kneeling there, looking all frantic and helpless. I knew at times I could be a bit of
the drama queen, but honestly, if you had gone through the crap that I call life, you might be a
bit overdramatic yourself. Hermione had never once, not in the past six years, *ever* implied
that I was an idiot or stupid. I sighed. “It’s all right Hermione; I know what you mean.”

She looked hopeful. “Really?”

I nodded. “Really. I…I may have overreacted, just a tad.”

She smiled and held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Just a tad.”

I scooted over so I could lean against the wall, and Hermione sat down beside me.

“Are we okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” I replied, taking her hand and giving it a quick squeeze before letting
go.

She nodded. After a second of silence, she spoke hesitatingly, “Can I ask why you reacted
so…strongly?”

Uh oh. I could, of course, tell her that I had suddenly fallen in love with her and wanted to
drag her off to a broom closet somewhere, but that just wouldn’t do. On the other hand, she knew me
well enough to see through my lies. So, when in doubt, tell a half-truth. I shrugged casually and
fiddled with the cuff of my robe. “I guess *maybe* I felt a little threatened by Godda- um, by
Ernie.”

She looked surprised. “Ernie? Why Ernie?”

God, this girl asked a lot of questions. “Well, I guess *maybe* I was scared that you would
spend all your time with him instead of with me…and with Ron.”

“Why on earth would I do that?”

I looked at her. “Well, you *are* going on with him, aren’t you?”

Hermione laughed. “Oh Harry, you big dummy! I only went out on that one date with him. I told
him it wouldn’t work out between us. Honestly Harry! He’s a bit…pompous for my tastes.”

A sense of relief so strong it surprised me seemed to flood over my senses. I let out a huge
sigh. “Thank God,” I muttered under my breath.

Fortunately for me, Hermione interpreted my comment as a reflection on Ernie, and not of my
undying love for her. She giggled. Did I ever mention how I love to hear her giggle? Hermione’s not
the giggling type, so it’s always a treat to hear her giggle. “What on earth would make you think
that I would date Ernie Macmillan?”

“Well,” I said, feeling slightly defensive, “it’s not like we ever talk about things like
that.”

She looked at me incredulously. “Are you kidding? We’re always talking about things like
that!”

“No,” I corrected. “We always talk about Ron and his girl problems, and we’ve talked about me
and Cho, but we’ve never talked about *you* and what *you* like in a guy.”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, obviously thinking about it. Finally, “I guess you’re right.” I
pumped a fist in victory, eliciting another Hermione-giggle. It was wonderful. “So,” she said, a
rather mischievous look on her face, “we’ve known each other for six years now. What kind of guy do
*you* think I like?”

I sensed danger in the question…must tread carefully. “Well, I’d have to guess based on your
dating history,” I said.

“Oh, right. My rather *extensive* dating history,” Hermione said dryly.

It was my turn to chuckle (as a guy, I do *not* giggle). “Since I can’t use Ernie anymore”
– it was just regular ‘Ernie’ – he was no longer to be damned by God now that I knew Hermione
ditched him – “I’d have to say the kind of guy you’re interested in would be a cross between
Gilderoy Lockhart and Viktor Krum.”

“What?!” Hermione shrieked, “Gilderoy Lockhart and Viktor Krum? You have *got* to be
kidding!” Hermione was bent over, laughing hard. Gah! As I watched her double over with laughter,
it began to dawn on me why the great ‘Plan (name pending)’ failed so miserably. I wish we’d had
this conversation earlier.

Eventually, Hermione regained her breath. “Honestly Harry,” she said, a mirthful smile on her
face, “Gilderoy Lockhart? I was *twelve*, for goodness’ sakes. I was impressed by his flash
and by his exploits. He’s much to shallow, even if he *had* done any of the things he claimed
to do. Although,” she added, “I did like the wavy thing he did with his hair.”

Oy! I knew I should have used Sleekeasy’s! “And Viktor?” I asked.

“Oh,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I was just really flattered that out of all the
girls pining away for him, he chose me. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice guy; it’s just that…well,
he’s a bit too grouchy for my tastes.”

“Ah.” God, I felt like such a fool. Again, if only we’d had this conversation earlier, I
wouldn’t have wasted my time on the ‘Plan (name pending),’ or at least come up with a better one.
In fact, now that I think about it, I shouldn’t have needed the conversation; I knew Hermione well
enough to know that she wasn’t impressed by exploits, that she wasn’t attracted to grumpy people,
or that she didn’t need someone brainy. I would have banged my head against the wall a few times if
she weren’t sitting beside me. Now though, the trick was to steer the conversation to find out what
she *did* like in a guy. Then I could craft ‘the Plan II,’ or ‘Return of the Plan,’ or maybe
‘The Plan Strikes Back.’ I was thinking about an innocuous question to get the ball rolling when it
occurred to me that she hadn’t said anything in a while. I looked over at her and immediately
recognized that thoughtful expression on her face, like when she was on the verge of solving a
puzzle or mystery. “Hermione?”

She slowly turned her attention back to me. “You know…” she said slowly, “you *have* been
acting rather odd lately…”

My eyes widened. Oh crap. Excuse! Come up with an excuse! “Well, er, I was feeling a bit under
the weather since Hogsmeade. It was chilly.” I shivered and made a ‘brrr’ sound for effect.

But she wasn’t listening to me – she was working out the puzzle. “First, you were bragging about
the basilisk, just like Lockhart would…”

Danger danger! Distract her! “Hey, it’s getting pretty late. We should head back to the common
room before we get caught out after curfew.” There, that should do it. The very idea that we would
be breaking a rule should capture her attention.

“…and then, you were acting very grumpy…just like Viktor…”

Argh! Change the subject! “Speaking of Viktor, how’s he doing? Have you heard from him lately?
Boy, I sure miss that guy!”

“…and just now, you were talking about politics, just like Ernie…”

There was only one option left: Run! I quickly stood up. “So, er, I’m going to bed,” – insert
fake yawn here – “I’ll see you in the morning.” I walked as quickly as possible without running
towards the portrait hole.

“Harry, wait.”

Ignore her! Ignore her! But my feet wouldn’t listen and stopped working. Stupid feet! I stood
still, my back to her. I felt, rather than heard, her coming up behind me. She circled around me so
that she was facing me. “Harry?” she asked softly. “What’s going on?”

Apparently my brain decided to shut down for the night and join my feet. “Uh…”

“Is there a reason you were emulating Gilderoy Lockhart, Viktor Krum, and Ernie Macmillan?”

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. I had never felt more exposed in my life. Plus, what the hell
did ‘emulating’ mean? “Uh…”

“What’s the matter?” she asked coyly. “Cat got your tongue? Perhaps this will help.” Hermione
stood up on the tips of her toes and gently pressed her lips against mine. The paralysis that had
taken over my body lasted only a second longer before I regained the use of my body. I closed my
eyes and kissed her back, my arms moving to encircle her around the waist. I sighed softly into her
mouth as she leaned against me, her hands moving to hold my face. After a few more blissful
seconds, she pulled away. I blinked open my eyes to look at her.

“Black hair, green eyes, and glasses,” she said.

My mind was far too gone at that point to make any sense of what she just said. “Huh?”

Hermione smiled. “If you had asked me what kind of guy I *do* like, I would have said,
‘Black hair, green eyes, and glasses’.”

I don’t think I had ever smiled so big in my life. I knew I was incapable of saying anything
clever, so just pulled her in for another kiss. Just like I planned all along.

*******

**A/N**: And so ends the story. Special thanks to **Facade** for giving me an outlet to
try a new style (even if she didn’t know it at the time) and **Tawny** for the beta. Thanks to
everyone for reviewing! Oh, and **gal**-**texter:** I think the 2 unnamed girls were from PoA
during the boggart scene; something about too many boggart manifestations for not enough known
kids. There’s a bit about them on the lexicon (
http://www.hp-lexicon.org/hogwarts/houses/gryffindor.html#Gryffindor_girls).



