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Part 1-Hermione on Ron

People aren't supposed to fall in love with their best friends. It's just- wrong somehow. I don't do things wrong, and yet I've somehow managed to fall for Ron. Ron, of all people. Him, with his irresponsibility, and cockiness, and his drooling over veelas. There's not a thing I can do about it, and it is perhaps the most painful thing in my life. It's not fair! It shouldn't hurt be to be around him. He shouldn't make me so conscience of my hands, my hair, my posture. I keep telling myself that it's only Ron, but who am I fooling? Certainly not myself. Harry doesn't send bolts of electricity up my spine when our hands brush.

If people knew, I know the first thing they would say is, "Why not Harry?" When you're the best friend of The Boy-Who-Lived, the best friend of the hero of the wizarding world, it's expected that you fall for him. I know Harry would scorn this idea as much as I do- we're like brother and sister. Why isn't Ron like my brother? I suppose it's because I've
never allowed him to be. Because when I saw him on the train that very first day, with that stupid smudge on his nose, I think I knew even then that he was something special. Not that Harry isn't; Harry's braver than anyone I know, and more selfless. But Ron has a fire in him that I love- I never have to ask what Ron's thinking because he'll come right out and say it. Not that this is always a good quality "They don't make 'em like that at Hogwarts." Honestly. But Ron, well, it's hard to explain. He's- he's Ron, wonderful, darling, stupid Ron. Ron, with that stupid red hair that's always a bit out of place, tempting me to brush it back, with those stupid, sparkling eyes, and that stupid, cheeky grin that sends my
stomach into flip-flops.

"Sends my stomach into flip-flops" Honestly, Hermione, get a grip on yourself. I sound like such a girl. That one smarted the most "Hermione- Neville's right- you are a girl." Of course I am, you great prat. Just because I don't go parading about like a veela, tossing my beautiful long hair over my shoulder, well, that doesn't mean that I'm not a girl. I wanted him to ask me to the ball, I'll admit it. The whole school already knows, and if he doesn't, he's got to be the thickest person at Hogwarts. Viktor was more than nice, and he was the epitome of a gentleman. But he wasn't Ron, and that mattered more than anything. I was in the middle of the floor, dancing with a CHAMPION, and all I could think was how much I longed to be sitting with Ron where he was pouting at his table. Isn't that silly?

It's worst, most painful on nights like this, when Harry's off at Quidditch practice, and it's just Ron and me sitting down in the common room. I'll read, and he'll struggle through Potions homework that should have been done a week ago. I know I should leave him to his own devices, make him learn, but when he calls my name, asks me to check something
over for him, I put down my book and sigh (this usually elicits a cheeky remark from him) and pull my chair closer to his to help. I can feel where our sleeves brush together, and I can feel his eyes on me. I don't dare look at him at moments like these, because I know my eyes might give me away. If our eyes lock at moment like this, I'm afraid that I'll never be able to tear mine away from his, afraid that I'll fall in.

He may never know. He may never know that when we tease each other it fills me with pleasure- because it means we're friends. And he may never know that when I point out his mistakes, it's my way of saying, "Ron, I care about you. I want you to do well." That after we talk about Harry, about how worried we are about him, I'm impressed again by how much Ron would sacrifice for Harry. Ron would give his life- he proved that in the Shrieking Shack when he stood on a broken leg, and told a convicted murder that if he wanted Harry, well, he'd have to go through all of us. That sometimes, in the middle of a late night study session, when we're all near sleep, I look at him and wonder what it would be like to kiss him. Well, I can't exactly out and tell him, can I? No, because we're friends, and people don't go around confessing their love to their friends all the time. People aren't supposed to fall in love with their
best friend.

Part 2 Ron on Hermione

People aren't supposed to fall in love with their best friend. It just isn't done. Yet me, being the great bloody prat I am, have gone and done it. Me! In love! Obviously, this is not Harry we're talking about. No, it's Hermione. Bossy, know-it-all, too-smart-for-her-own good Hermione.

It's so...weird. Like, one minute, she was just my other best friend, somebody to keep me and Harry in line, and the next she was this...girl. When I saw her at the Yule Ball with bloody Viktor Krum, I didn't even know it was her! She looked so different. And it made me crazy to think that she made herself look like THAT for Krum. Yea, she's definetly a girl. A great girl, at that. The things that made me hate her are all the things I like so much now. She's smart, that Hermione. I never knew anyone as smart as she is, not even Percy, or Bill. Anytime I need to know something, I can ask her. Yeah, she's too smart for her own good. That thing with Rita Skeeter- how'd Hermione figure that out, huh? And the Basilisk, back in second year. She's the one who knew what it was. Yeah, she spends a lot of time in the library, and reads too much. But she's a ruddy genius!

She had me scared with the Basilisk. Hermione's usually so...strong. When Harry and I are fighting, she's the link, and when we're stuck, she knows the answer. But when she was Petrified, she looked so small, and so alone. I wasn't ready for that one, 'cause life just wasn't the same without her.

Hermione's got a lot of guts too. Man. She can even put Malfoy in his place. That time she slapped him...whoa! That was great. "Twitchy little ferret, aren't you Malfoy?" That was even better. And marching out on Trelawney? Even more impressive. But Malfoy...every time her calls her "Mud"- no, I won't even think it. I want to knock his brains out. That bastard.

I know the guys would think I'm nuts. They'd ask why I don't like a "pretty" girl, like Parvati, or Lavendar, or Cho. But Hermione, she's pretty too. She's the prettiest when she's mad, when her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are sparkling, and her hair is coming loose out of that knot she wears it in all the time. And that smile. The real one, the one that pops across her face when Harry's caught the Snitch, or she's gotten ANOTHER hundred and thirty six percent on an exam. Or when she's read something that's apparently really interesting. Or sometimes, when I grin at her at in Professor Binn's class when I catch even her, Hogwarts' resident genius, not taking notes, and she smiles back. That smile. It
lights up her whole face and suddenly...well.

What am I supposed to do about it, huh? Nothing. Not a damn thing. I can't TELL her. She'd probably just run away, and then I'd lose even her friendship. I wouldn't know how to say it, either.

But sometimes...like now. She's over there in that armchair, all curled up with her book, looking...like Hermione. Beautiful. And I know if I ask, she'll come over and help me with this homework for Snape that I should have finished last week. And if she comes over, she'll pull her chair up right by mine, and our arms will brush, and my ears'll go red.
Then she'll get right down to business, checking my answers, and our sleeves will be brushing up against each other. She's very serious about the work, never once looking up my way, which is for the best. If she did...well. I'd have to turn away. Because if I looked into her eyes...right. I'm getting all girly now. But...well... I think I'd kiss her. 'Cause she's Hermione. But I can't kiss her, just because she's Hermione. 'Cause she's my best friend, and people don't do
that with their best friends.