I Wish That Boy Was Mine: An Ironic Harmione Fanfic

Regrets

A/N: Sorry for the short last chapter. We're starting school and also still mourning the death of Spider-Man. To compensate here's an edit of what's going on in the story. ⬆️

~Hermione's P.O.V~

    I stood on a hill outside of Hogwarts, lighting pictures of Harry on fire. Pictures of us, pictures of us and Ron, even that one from the time Harry ruined the Department of Mystery. Ah. Those were the days.
But there was no time for old memories. I was seething with anger. Harry, that poophead (excuse my language), had broken up with me. For no reason except that he had another girlfriend! I know, uncalled for.
   "Who needs the Chosen One anyway?" I muttered to myself as I burned a candid picture of Harry picking his nose.
   I distantly heard the bells for the next class ring in the distance, but my breakup had left me so heartbroken that I decided to skip class for the first time in my life. Then thirty seconds later I regretted my decision and booked it to class as fast as possible.
Stepping in the Transfiguration room, I felt all eyes on me.
   "Uh, I had to poop really bad," I lied to no one in particular. I glared at Harry. He farted and wiped a booger on Malfoy's sleeve.
I huffed and sat down next to a random person. He had a bowl cut and was eyeing my hair hungrily.
After class, I went up to Harry. "How dare you exist in the same timeline as me!"
He stared at me stupidly. "It's not my fault you were born."
Draco walked by and said, "Ooooo better put some ice on that burn."
I gaped at Harry. "How can you be so insensitive?" I asked.
Harry shrugged. "Um well I was dating you behind Ginny's back, soooo..."
   "Ugh! Whatever! I hope Ginny dies!" I turned and ran briskly to the dining hall, where I planned to stuff my face with garlic bread and shepherds pie.

~Harry's P.O.V.~

Hermione didn't get it. Did she think I wanted to be with Ginny? After the whole ordeal, Ginny treated me like slug soup, but she refused to break up with me.
Oh, how I wanted Hermione. I missed her disgust at my failure in classes. I missed how she would begrudgingly correct my always incorrect homework. I missed her!
But I had to pretend I hated her. You know, for the subscribers and stuff. She clearly hated me, but that didn't stop the feelings. I was, to say, hooked on a feeling.
   "Ginny," I said one day at breakfast as Ginny poured orange juice into my hair. Again.
   "Yes, Harrison?"
   "Uh, well, I don't think this is working out."
She glared at me. "Oh, ReAlLy? You don't SaY?"
   "Yeah. So I was thinking we should break up."
Ginny had a moment of silence, or maybe she farted, but then, suddenly, violently, she grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me close to her face.
   "I swear, Harry Potter," she whispered, "If you try to break up with me we will never, ever be friends again. I will tell Ron to throw out all the stuff you left at our house, and most importantly..."
I braced myself for the worst.
   "I will comb your hair so it's not messy."
I gasped. No! My messy hair was the whole supporter of my rugged good looks and boyish charm! Tame that and I was a... brunette Malfoy!
I cried. I cried for a good three minutes and then begged Ginny not to do it.
   "Only if you promise to stay with me," Ginny growled.
Tearfully, I nodded.
But inside, I knew I would never feel the same. I loved Hermione Granger.