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- At the mention of love, I straightened my tie awkwardly. -

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    Curly hair and mousy brown eyes invaded my dreams that night. I saw her staring at the stars like she told me she did in her letter, looking for Draco the Dragon in the speckled sky. Every time I asked a question, her hand would shoot up, ready to answer. She would be clutching my hand, watching in horror as her two best friends almost die in a flying car. Turning back time in her already busy schedule to spend a hour with me. She would be dressed like an angel as she soared like a phoenix down the stairs. Hermione Granger. She could cast any spell you threw at her, take down any opponent. Hermione adjusting my wand movement as she instructed me on the proper wand movement on the disarming charm. I smiled, even in my sleep, as I heard her voice, "No, no, no. You're doing it wrong."

  It was then I told her that I was sick of hiding our friendship, that I wanted people to know. But she didn't reciprocate. She told me that she only sneaked around because Harry and Ron, especially Ron, would disapprove. I had lashed out at her for fancying Weasley more that she did the boy that she sneaked out with every weekend for five years. She stopped speaking with me after that day. She didn't even say a word until the first letter arrived; the glorious day of July 7th.

  My dreams were interrupted by a dark shadow, a pale white man with the nose of a snake. He pointed his wand at me and yelled, "Avada Kedavra." That is when I woke up, sweating like mad.

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  I signed up for Potions class this year hoping for Professor Snape, but instead I got Slughorn. I grimaced as I stared at my schedule. Father told me about him. He picked favorites, to collect them. There was no doubt in my head that he wanted Potter.

  After breakfast, I sulked out of the Great Hall and regretfully headed to Professor Slughorn's class. I didn't care to look at any of the faces I past. I shoved my way through a nest of confused first years, all doing their best to navigate the castle. I ignored Professor McGonagall's disgusted, "Malfoy!" and continued to my class. I saw Potter and Weasley leaning against a wall, and just like me, they towered over the herds of children. They must have a free period this hour. I smiled to myself as I passed them, knowing that I will have Granger all to myself for at least an hour every week this year.

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  I walked in and there she was, her nose already lost in a book. I approached her, and she pretended not to notice me, but I caught her reading the same paragraph four times.

  "It's the first day of term Granger," I teased.

  She went pink like she did on the train, "Oh shut it."

  I joined Pansy and Blaise in the far corner of the small classroom, but my attention was still focused on Granger. In order to be inconspicuous, I stared at her shoes instead of her face, trying to avoid any uncomfortable conversations with Pansy and Blaise later.

  Just then, Potter and Weasley walked into the classroom. A rush of anger flowed through me. This was my hour to be with Granger. Not Potter's. Professor Slughorn directed them to grab a used book from the shelf in the back before he continued with his lesson, "I prepared some concoctions this morning. Any idea what these might be?"

  Like lightning, Granger's hand pierced the sky with such quickness that it was impossible for the human eye to catch. I looked up from my gaze to smile admiringly at her. She always knew the answer. I don't think there is something she doesn't know, except... I shook the thought from my head. I saw her glance at my out of the corner of her eye, and when she saw me gazing in awe at her, the corner of her lip upturned in happiness.

  "Yes, Miss..." Professor Slughorn called on her.

  "Granger, Sir." She walked up to the table where the potions where held, "That one there is Veritaserum, it's a truth-telling serum. And that one would be Polyjuice Potion. And that," she pointed to the center cauldron which green steam rose from, "is Amortentia! It's the most powerful love potion in the world." At the mention of love, I straightened my tie awkwardly. "It is rumored to smell differently to each person, according to what attracts them. For example, I smell..." I perked up a bit. Granger never confirmed to me her feelings, only hinted at it. I held my breath, both anxious and excited to hear what attracts her. "...freshly mown grass, parchment, and..." she paused, then under her breath, she mumbled, "...midnight breeze."

  I was shocked. All three of the things that she had said were all things that related to me.

  The grass was from our third year when she would use her time turner to meet me outside at dawn. One day we both tripped, and rolled down to the bottom of a grassy hill. We lay there, laughing, grass stains on both of our uniforms until we both had to leave for class.

  The parchment smell was all the letters I would enchant to take forms like a swan or a dove and send to her during lessons when our professors weren't looking. Potter and Weasley always thought they were hate messages, but actually I wrote little notes like, Secret 7, I stare when you aren't looking, which would make her blush, not out of self-consciousness, but the opposite.

  The midnight breeze, could only represent when we sneaked out of our dormitories last year and met at the Room of Requirement every Saturday evening. I would tell my friends that I was heading to see Professor Snape, and she would tell hers she was headed to the library. It worked perfectly. The Room of Requirement always met our needs. When we wanted to talk, it would give us a small, comfortable sitting room, with a warm fire lighting up in the night. When we wanted to fool around, it gave us broomsticks and various joke products to play with. The Room always knew. One night, to our surprise, the Room opened up to a balcony. Above us was a simple arbor covered in artistically placed vines and flowers, but across from where we stood, was a small section of balcony, just large enough for two people to squeeze in. We had looked at each other and giggled, both of us realizing that we both felt something more for each other than we had originally thought. When we stood on the balcony, the air was crisp and cool. We breathed it in together, and that was the night that I admitted to myself that I was in love with her. I didn't tell her that of course, but now I wonder if I had then, if she would have said it back.