Origins

Hermione had always wondered when it began. She had an analytical mind. She wanted to understand everything, you know, find the root of things...the origin. It was sort of like a math problem. No...It was more like chemistry.

Maybe it started when Harry would unconsciously glance towards the Slytherin table. His cool glance would trap Harry's own verdant gaze. Harry would always slosh pumpkin juice over his wrists, become rigid and lose his appetite. Hermione wondered if he realized what was having such a profound affect on him.

Hermione tried to place the exact date, but she couldn't.

Maybe it was when their fights seemed to grow more volatile. When they began to inch so close to one another, eyes ablaze, that their noses would brush. Hermione would watch from a safe distance, but she could always feel such tension. They would both shiver violently.

Every fight would get physical, and they would end up wrestling on the cool corridor floors.

However, Hermione did know when she was certain of what was slowly growing between them.

When Harry would disappear for hours, only to return flushed and demurely pleased. Hermione would ask where he had been, and he would only grin at her, then shuffle quietly up the stairs to his dormitory.

When Draco would purposely brush past the Gryffindor table before every meal, letting his hand trail over Harry's soldiers.

When even Ron sat up and took notice-during Care of Magical Creatures.

"Why is Malfoy standing so close to Harry? Oi! Harry! Over here!"

Harry didn't hear. Instead, Hermione saw him lean closer to him, trying to catch what Draco was whispering in his ear. Harry blushed. So did Hermione.

Hermione knew when she gave up.

When Harry and Draco kissed. In the sunlit hallway. Right in front of the Gryffindor common room. The first years began to furiously whisper, giggling, they scampered off to tell their all their friends. As Hermione watched them scatter, she wished she was small again. But she kept on smiling, even when Harry turned to smile beatifically at her.

The next morning, the whole school knew. The Great Hall was buzzing, people frantically gossiping and pointing. Slowly, Harry rose from his seat next to Hermione, and began to purposefully stride towards the Slytherin table. He sat down next to Draco, and the whispers just stopped. Harry looked shyly up at Draco, and pecked him on the cheek. Draco poured Harry some juice, and everyone returned to eating.

Harry never looked back at Hermione.

Hermione sure as hell knew when she gave up.

You can never be sure that your answer will be correct. There are so many variables to keep track of, Hermione sometimes loses her focus. You'll never know when you will miss the negative number. It completely changes the results.

So you rework the problem, meticulously double checking every maneuver. But you can't find your mistake. You can't find where you went wrong.

There are some things even Hermione can't rationalize.