Love Lines by lilymione1203

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 22/10/2009
Last Updated: 22/10/2009
Status: Completed

ONE-SHOT. Hermione's p.o.v- a rant/fluff piece after Hermione's final divination class.
What WAS going through her mind when she stormed out? R&R, if you please!!




1. ONE-SHOT
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**A/N: This is Hermione’s pov, takes place during POA but I’m not sure which chapter. They
don’t have a ‘Books 1-3’ setting in the descriptions, so that’s why it says 1-4. It does comply
with the most part with POA, but you don’t have to remember details to read the fic. This is what
Hermione thinks and feels after she storms out of divination, around the Easter holidays, I
believe. That’s the only part of the story that’s really canon, I just like writing Hermione rant
pieces and I figured she might be a little fired up after that particular sequence :- ) . At any
rate, the first half is rant/humor and the second is fluff. I sincerely hope you enjoy and would
love to know what you think!!!**

LOVE LINES

URGH!!! I could just kill that woman. I’d love to stuff her lungs with a pot full of that ashen
tea and watch her choke on it. Sputter her dying words to the class in a dramatic fervor and then
flop face down right on the carpet. I’d spit on her shawl.

Maybe that was a bit harsh. Although it is a hideously ugly shawl- one that makes Granny
Granger’s look straight out of the pages of *Vogue.*

But it would be no skin off my nose if she at least got sacked. I can’t wait for that blessed
day- I hope I’m around when it happens. In case you’re wondering, I’m currently fuming down the
crackled staircase that leads to that ridiculous chamber of made-up magic, or *divination.* I
can’t even say the word anymore without my face taking on an expression of utter distaste.

I’m fourteen years old and I’ve had enough- I think I’m old enough to make my own decisions.
Honestly, it’s the most unintelligent class I’ve ever attended. You know how much respect I have
for education, but *that* is nothing more than a lurid joke.

I don’t know why I signed up for it in the first place. I suppose it was a bit stupid of me to
register for *that* many classes. What was I thinking? I guess I was just happy to be alive
after a basilisk froze my entire body *with its eyes* and put me in the hospital wing for
Merlin knows how long. I was so thrilled at the opportunity to make up for what I had missed I
overlooked some of the prerequisites.

And top of the list for divination is ‘must not have a brain.’

For some reason I also signed up for muggle studies? Why I did this I’ve no idea. I was raised
as a muggle, why would I need to re-learn how to be one? In all honesty I could teach the class.
The real professor’s on maternity leave and this one is a pureblood. I swear if he says ‘fumputer’
one more time I’m going to hit him. Square in the jaw. It doesn’t even have an ‘f’ in it- where are
you getting that from!?

This place is going to pieces. Merlin, *I’m* going to pieces. Dementors guarding every door
and me running around with this bloody timeturner trying not to run into myself every other day.
Its not like anyone else has this problem. I can’t be like, ‘Hey, Lavender, I nearly bumped into
myself in the corridor the other day when I was on the way to ancient ruins- that ever happen to
you?’

Actually, *normal* conversation isn’t possible with Lavender, either. Or Parvati, for that
matter. My IQ is far too high to enjoy any form of vocal exchange, and I haven’t squealed or
giggled like that since I was four. Maybe younger than that.

One time she asked me if unicorns had periods. *What kind of a question is that??* Save
that for Hagrid, I’d simply love to hear his response. And Parvati’s not much better. Always
brushing her plait of dark silken scarlet, tresses shining in the candlelight as they nearly drape
the floor. Sickening.

My hair is a beast yet to be tamed. Fuzzy and brown, a bushy mane that merely flops against my
shoulders, and the only way I’d get it to shine is if I set fire to it. Which, some days, I have
half a mind to do.

At any rate, Parvati and Lavender are quite the pair. Crushing on nearly every bloke in the
castle and being good enough for absolutely none of them. Maybe Crabbe and Goyle, but I think
they’d snuff themselves after fifteen minutes of conversation.

You know, I kind of like that idea now that I think about it. Parvati and Crabbe, and Lavender
and Goyle. Or the other way around, it doesn’t really matter. It’s kind of…cute. In a creepy way.
What am I *saying,* why am I thinking about this? Lord, I’ve had a tough day- don’t judge
me.

It all started when I woke up this morning, to the wonderful aroma of nail polish, of course,
and my brain felt like it was swimming in pancake syrup. I’ve been getting maybe two hours of sleep
a night- maybe- but the weird thing is Parvati and Lavender get even less.

Not because they’re studying- HA- but because they just won’t shut up. I’ve never heard them
actually end a conversation. I think they continually drone about rainbows and sunshine until their
bodies shut down. I fall asleep each night to their shrieking voices, only to wake up each morning
to the same. When do you people sleep!?

Last year I got tired of their never-ending sleepovers and tried to cause drama. I know it’s
mean, but my sanity was on the line. I cut out a picture of Neville and glued hearts on it, placing
it under Parvati’s pillow. Lavender found it and simply had a field day- they didn’t talk for a
month. The silence ended, however, when Lavender attempted to accept Neville and ask him out for
Parvati- but mass confusion broke out and they haven’t had a row since.

I sort of felt bad for poor Neville, so I did a few of his potions essays. Thirteen, to be
exact.

They never found out it was me that put the picture there, but I doubt they even remember the
incident. They don’t really retain much- with the exception of who’s been on every cover of *Teen
Witch* since 1987. However, they *do* seem to recall one bit of information I let slip.

Lavender and Parvati have teased me about Harry since his first Quidditch match. Always calling
me his ‘little bookworm’ and such. ‘Who do *you* have a crush on, Hermione? It wouldn’t happen
to be a certain *seeker* would it?’ And giggles would erupt from under frilly pillows as I
stormed out of the room.

That’s the only thing I’ll ever give them credit for, and I would never do it to their faces.
One time- ONE- I accidentally confirm their suspicions (not that I’m easy to make hot under the
collar…) by saying ‘So, what if I am?’ and blushed deeper than the color of Ron’s hair. The words
just tumbled out of my mouth uncontrollably. It was like a train barreling down the tracks, a force
that couldn’t be stopped.

Naturally, their eyes widened in delight as mouths spread into wicked grins, identical
expressions of pure evil. I buried my face in my hands and fled the scene, losing any ounce of
dignity I had managed to retain. Whether Harry knows I like him or not, I’ve yet to figure out.
*I* didn’t even know it ‘til the phrase escaped my lips that horrid day.

But back to today’s events, I really don’t know what came over me. Right now I’m just sitting in
this empty corridor, completely void of any inhabitants, with the exception of the occasional
ghost. I only have about a billion homework assignments to work on at the moment, but I suppose
they won’t rot in my satchel while I calm myself down for a few minutes.

You know, come to think of it, I really have always liked Harry. You know- *liked* him
liked him. He has saved my life on several occasions, and he is rather attractive. I love the way
his hair ruffles in the breeze, the way it flops around while he rides his broom- the darkened
tresses swept by the wind.

His eyes are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I don’t know if a bloke would ever want
anything of theirs to be ‘beautiful,’ but his eyes certainly were. So vibrant and compelling, they
draw me in every time I look at them. I could get lost in the glossy green that sparkles in the
moonlight. Sigh…

Every time he smiles I want to do the same. It lights up my day to see him happy, especially
knowing he came from such a troubled past. He has a dimple on his left cheek, just a tiny one, and
my eyes crinkle with glee every time it makes an appearance.

I don’t know how long I sat in that corridor, buttocks planted on the ground with feet sprawled
out in front, daydreaming about the boy who captured my heart without either of us knowing it. Did
I do this very often? No wonder Parvati and Lavender called me out on it. I can’t believe I didn’t
see the signs….

Well, I did just drop divination.

All of a sudden, I felt a figure plop down beside me, startling me out of my trance. I whipped
my head to the right to see the very eyes I was envisioning stare right back at me.

“Harry!”

“The one and only.”

I scowled and swat him on the arm, making the dimple appear that I longed to see.

“Shouldn’t you be learning about how we’re all going to die?” I asked in disdain, scrunching my
nose in the process.

“Nah, I learned about that last week,” he said, trying to suppress a grin.

“It’s not funny, Harry!”

“Come on, Hermione, you’ve got to look at it with a sense of humor. And we didn’t even learn
about that today.”

“Oh?” I said in false interest, flicking my eyes toward the ceiling.

“Nope. I think you should have stayed around for at least one more lesson-“

“Hardly,” I scoffed, fixing my gaze on my shoes.

“Just give me your hand-“

“I’m not going back up there!”

“No,” he said firmly, meeting my gaze, “I’m not taking you anywhere, I just want to see it.”

I eyed him skeptically before handing it over, my fingers trembling as I stretched out my arm.
He gently coiled his fingers around my own and turned my palm face up, pressing my fingers
together. I watched him as he bit the inside of his lip, flopping his head left and right as he
examined my hand.

“Very interesting,” he said quietly, flickering his eyes toward mine.

“What?”

“You have very sweaty palms.”

“Harry!”

“I’m just kidding,” he added with a laugh, almond eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Well, are you going to read my fortune or not? That’s what you did today, isn’t it?” I asked
with impatience, still giddy that Harry’s hand was clasped around my own.

“Not exactly,” was all he said, continuing to inspect my quivering fingers, which probably
*were* rather sweaty.

He began lightly tracing the inside of palm, tenderly outlining the creases with the softness of
his fingertips. My whole body tingled and butterflies swelled within my stomach, my heart picking
up speed with every beat.

“What are you looking for?” I whispered, watching his hands dance across the surface.

“You have very strong love lines,” he said, not really answering my question.

“Is that good?” I asked quietly, watching his face.

“It is for who you love,” Harry said slowly, turning his eyes on to mine as a lock of dark hair
fell into his frames.

“Oh…”

We sat in silence for a while, our eyes locked on one another as tension mounted all around us.
The corridor filled with an intangible force, driving us together yet keeping us apart.

“I see something else, too,” he said, breaking the silence and glancing back down at my shaking
appendage.

“You learned all this in thirty minutes? Are you sure you know what you’re doing? You didn’t
even stay ‘til the e-“

“Shh!”

“Sorry!”

“Do you see this line here? It’s monstrous!”

“Thanks, Harry…” my voice dripping in sarcasm.

“No, not like that. Look-“ I leaned my head closer to his, our crowns nearly touching, and bent
over my glistening palm- searching for the crease he had indicated, “Do you see that?” he asked,
looking me in the eye and pointing between my thumb and first finger.

“Er…”

“It’s an arrow. A really *large* arrow. And it’s pointing at *me.”*

My face flushed a deep crimson and I quickly turned away, bushy brown tendrils blocking my view
of the fortune teller. I bit my lip and chanced a glance his direction, only to find his eyes
boring into my own.

“Do you know what that means?” he asked quietly, not tearing his gaze away from mine.

I shook my head back and forth, indicating that I had no idea- which I didn’t- and felt my heart
race inside of me. If my palms weren’t sweating before, they certainly were now. My breathing
became erratic and my body trembled, waiting on tenterhooks for an answer.

“It means you love me.”

I shut my eyes and tried to bury my head in my hands, but Harry still had a firm grasp on my
upturned palm. I settled for sticking my face in my shoulder, apparently trying to hide my shame,
but felt his hand lightly cup my chin, pulling it back towards him.

He stared deeply into my eyes, his face laden with concern, and wiped a single tear from my
cheek. I have no idea why I was crying. Was it because he found out my secret? Was it because he
was getting ready to humiliate me? Was it because I was over my head in homework and just stormed
out of a class? It could have been any of these things or a combination of all three- all I know is
that I wish I were more like a unicorn, if you catch my drift.

He smiled at me and the dimple reappeared, crinkling the corners of his eyes, “Look-“ he said as
he showed me his palm, a craggly arrow staring back at me, “I’ve got it, too.”

All the air was released from my lungs as my eyes brimmed with tears, not of sadness, but of
joy. My frown transformed into a smile and my eyes crinkled too, beaming into the ones that loved
me back.

He leaned in to kiss me, our palms finding one another as he played with my hair, stroking the
curly chestnut laying upon my shoulder. Sunlight filled the gloomy corridor, radiating from our
lips as two fortunes became one. Our love lines intertwined, a true match made in heaven, and I
never badmouthed divination again.

‘Til the next day.

**A/N: I hope you liked it!!! A Hermione rant/fluff piece. Please let me know what you think, I
would love lots of reviews!! ^_^**



