"This is the sweetest thing," Hermione exclaims, flipping another page in the leather journal.
"Hermione! It's not our's to read," I groan, attempting to snatch the journal out of her hands.
Ginny giggles. "Come on, Y/N! Don't you want to know who wrote about you!"
I frown. "Of course, but I would hate if someone read through my personal journal," I respond.
"Just listen to this," Hermione says, her eyes following her finger as she drags it across the page. "Your secret admirer said 'she has eyes that sparkle, and just one smile from her brightens my day.' Oh my gosh, this person is lovesick!"
I can't help but blush. I'm flattered.
Ginny's eyes scan the room. Gryffindors sit in the common room, studying, talking, eating. "Who could it be?" she wonders.
I bite my lip nervously. This person may take interest in me but they would despise me after finding out I've read their journal.
I spend the night thinking of anyone it could possibly be, but I can't put my finger on it. Nobody takes interest in me that I've noticed.
I wake up to squealing. I squint through the sunlight to see Hermione sitting on her bed with Ginny. They're hunched over the journal again.
Ginny turns to me, practically jumping onto my bed. "We know who it is!" she exclaims.
"Who?" I ask curiously.
"You'll find out later! We're giving them the day to ask you out. Gosh, I'm so happy!" Ginny beams.
I groan, my head falling back against my pillow.
After dinner, I stroll through the halls, in no particular rush to get my homework done. Homework can wait. Right now I just want to take in the school. I've been here four years now, but I've never really appreciated the beauty of the place.
The tall walls cause echos and I can hear my shoes on the ground as I stroll. The windows always display incredible views, the lake, the mountains, the forest even.
As I walk I check my watch. The day is almost done, and nobody has asked me yet. My heart pounds in my chest, the anticipation causing it.
Eventually, I begin walking back to the common room. I'm standing on the moving stairs when I see him. Ron. The boy with fiery red hair and a love for food. He's standing outside the painting, a little rose in his hand.
It was Ron. I smile to myself, continuing to ascend.
"Hi Ron," I say, suddenly shy.
Ron shifts his weight nervously. "I was told to ask you out before midnight," he chuckles awkwardly. "And I'm really not good at this kind of stuff, but here goes. Y/N Y/L/N, would you be willing to go on a date with me?" Ron lets out a big breath, which he's clearly been holding.
My cheeks fill with color and my face feels hot. But I couldn't be more excited. "I'd love to," I reply.
I wrap my arms around his neck and at first he's awkward, his hands at his sides. Then, he wraps them around my waist, hugging me close. I couldn't be happier that it were Ron.
