Wednesday-(Harry’s P.O.V.) 9:19 AM
Harry, Stupid Harry. Talk to Hermione, you bloody idiot! My own words echoed in my head.
I fought myself as I walked downstairs, so focused that I ran into someone.
“Oh, I’m so sorry...” I was so embarrassed that I wasn’t paying attention, that the only thing that seemed worth paying attention to was the floor, which, I noticed, looking at someone else’s feet is a good way to find out who they are without looking them in the face.
“…Hermione.” My face burned, and for once, not in the forehead area.
“It’s fine, Harry. I wasn’t watching myself.” She took the blame for herself.
“No, honestly. It’s my fault. I ensured, finally getting the nerve to look at her face rather than her shoes.
When I looked up, her head was down, so all I saw was a head of golden-brown curls.
I finally cleared my throat, nodded at her and walked all the way down the stairs, sure not to hit anyone this time.
“What took you so long?” Ron was at the table, his mouth full, as usual.
“I ran into Hermione.” I shrugged, sitting next to him and grabbing an apple.
“Ah, knowing you, you had to start a conversation.” He said, stuffing his face again.
“No, literally. I was walking downstairs, and I hit her in the face with my elbow.” I was staring at the hardwood floor again, because my face began to burn a bright scarlet, which I could tell, considering the floor was clean enough that I could see myself, thank you, Mrs. Weasley.
Ron was choking on his food with laughter.
“You were trying to get breakfast, and you hit someone’s face still.” Fred stated blankly, causing George and Ron to erupt with laughter, followed by a few subtle giggles from Ginny.
Well, you have a group of bloody good friends, don’t you, Harry?
I folded my arms on the table and put my head on my arms.
“What did you do to Harry?” Hermione’s voice came out of what I could see as pure blackness, but everyone else could see as the Weasleys’ kitchen.
“We teased him about how he hurts the faces of others.” Ginny’s voice came from the opposite side of the room that Hermione’s came from.
“He can’t even go to breakfast without causing someone pain.” George’s…or Fred’s voice came from the place across from me.
“You have the best of friends, don’t you, Harry?” Hermione whispered in my ear, soon after assuming the same position as I was, only turning her head towards me.
“You hurt his feelings!” Hermione said angrily, after watching the look on Harry’s face for all of ten seconds.
“He’s not that sensitive, is he?” Ginny’s voice seemed to grow nearer.
“Apologize!” Hermione yelled, and I could almost hear the scared expressions on Fred, George and Ron’s faces.
“We’re sorry.” Fred and George said at the same time.
“Sorry.” I could hear Ron shrug, and his facial expression being that uneasy half-smile he does.
“It didn’t really offend me that much, I just feel bad about hurting Hermione’s face.” I sat up, removing my arms from the table and my head from my arms.
Hermione smiled and shook her head.
I walked back up the stairs soon after I excused myself from breakfast, the memory from about an hour ago of me running into Hermione, which is a small thing, not usually something someone would freak out over, but it’s HERMIONE.
The prettiest, smartest, most perfect girl in the entire world.
Or at least, I haven’t met one more beautiful, more brilliant or anything NEAR as perfect as Hermione Granger.
I wonder if Hermione ever thinks about me.
Do you think she knows how amazing she is?
She never seems much like she does.
Why am I even going to talk to her? What am I even going to say?
“Hello, Hermione. Did you know that I think you are the most beautiful thing that’s ever walked the earth, and every time I see you I get a cheesy love song stuck in my head?”
(Goodness, another short chapter. Next one will be longer, I PROMISE.)
