"But you like him, don't you?"

Hermione stopped at the question. Did she like him?

His image appeared vividly in her mind, the tousled, reddish locks lying carelessly on his forehead, and a hand raking through it every now and then. She wished she could fluff it.

Was that weird? Probably.

Then there were his eyes. They were pale blue-green, and were quiet and beautiful. Framing them were dark lashes, that fluttered softly when he was confused. She sometimes couldn't pay attention in class due to him blinking at the board.

He often came to her with new tales of girls he wanted to ask out. Heart twinging, she would listen to him talk about them. He usually moved on quite quickly, though.

She didn't know if this was a good thing or a bad thing. It might be that he hadn't found his 'one true love' yet, and she still had a chance. Or he just got bored too easily and no one - especially her - would ever be good enough.

In her opinion, the latter was far more likely. She was an average kind of person: clever, normal-looking and insignificant.

But it didn't change the fact that the more she knew him, the closer she dropped to the point of no return. There was something about the pink lips that turned up into a sweet smile, and the constellation of freckles scattered on pale skin that made her tummy flutter with butterflies.

Actually, screw butterflies. She felt the whole freaking zoo.

"Hello?" Harry waved a hand in front of her face. "I asked if you liked him...?"

She picked up her sandwich, and took a large bite. "No, of course not."

Of course not.