To Dean,
« I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way that this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest...
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"How could you keep it secret for so long Ann'?" Hermione asked in a whisper, even if there was nobody else in the dormitory.
"I don't know," Annabel sighed. "Really, I don't. Maybe because it's so cliché to fall in love with your best friend."
The funny part was how embarassed Hermione was now because she recognised herself in this very same cliché. Of course, she was not admitting her feelings for Ron but it was clear for anyone who knew her quite well to guess that their relationship could have some romantic tone to it from time to time.
And that's how they both started laughing hysterically.
"We got ourselves infatuated with the wrong guys I believe." Annabel said once they were both back to calm.
"Do you think you'll tell Dean the truth eventually?"
"I really wish I could. I mean, I've dreamt many times of telling him the truth and everything going the way I've always wished but don't you think if he felt the same way about me there would have been some signs already?"
Hermione seemed thoughtful for a moment, trying to remember all the times she had seen Annabel and Dean together, whether it would be with the rest of their group or just the two of them.
"Well, there has never been signs that you had feelings for him so he might feel things for you too but hide them well."
"I don't know. I just don't want to ruin what we already have." Annabel answered.
"But you might be ruining what you could have with him if you told the truth."
