Just a Boy

Just A Boy

It was, in fact, the day that she hated most. She knew deep down that she always greatly anticipated this day every year, but when it finally came, knew she had wasted a lot of studying time.

Hermione wasn't patient. End of story. She didn't like to wait. She could usually tolerate waiting, but the anticipation wrought on by the current holiday was usually more than enough to bear. She had gone through so many Valentine's Days by now that she didn't really want to count how many she had actually looked forward to but was ultimately let down. To tell the truth, the number really wasn't very high, but it was still disappointing to consider the thought. She remembered when she was smaller and things were simple, when all St. Valentine was good for was chocolate. Now that she was older, it meant more than that. Hermione wanted more than just chocolate, but it really wasn't like her to admit it. Instead, she resorted to dropping subtle hints, to which the intended recipient would oggle cluelessly and forget due to the fact that he clearly did not understand. As it turned out, there was a certain someone Hermione had secretly hoped might actually pick up on such hints, yet she was also aware that he was probably the last person on Earth to catch them, let alone figure out what they meant...

Lavender Brown was prancing around the common room at the moment, as Hermione sat at a table in the far end of the room, trying to ignore her giggles, trying to act like she didn't care. She wouldn't admit it to herself, but she would much like a rose, too, as cliche as it was.

Hermione, apparently, was too caught up in unwanted envy that she hadn't noticed that she had a visitor...

"'Hermione," began the growing, slightly cracking, deep voice of a certain Ronald Weasley in her ear, "There doesn't happen to be a reason why you're muttering to yourself? It's a bit scary,"

Hermione jumped and took her eyes off of Lavender who was brandishing the pink rose in Parvati's face; squealing like there was no tomorrow. There was a reason for Hermione's bordering-on-violent muttering, but as far as she could tell, she thought it was all in her head. Yet again, another reason why she loathed the stupid holiday.

"What, you want a rose too?" Ron chided, a sly grin spreading across his face once he followed Hermione's gaze towards Lavender looking like a downright idiot.

Hermione immediately shot him a reproving look.

"No! Of course not!" she retorted, as if scandalized. She didn't want to say that she didn't want to get something for Valentine's Day, or that she thought it was stupid, because there was a part of her that didn't. There was a part of her that stupidly hoped that the clueless git standing beside her was hiding a rose behind his back. She knew it was highly unlikely.

After a few moment's awkward silence, Ron began to look at Hermione like he knew she was jealous about something.

"Not a rose, anyway," Hermione snapped, though she didn't like the fact that her voice was a lot higher than intended, "Roses are dreadfully overrated. Can't anyone come up with something, oh I don't know, clever?"

Hermione could feel her cheeks turn pink as she finished her useless excuse and couldn't help but feel stupid, and she absolutely hated feeling stupid.

"Can you just go for a minute? I really have to finish this," she said, irritated. She wasn't too comfortable with Ron staring at her. Ron shrugged and slunk away without question before leaving for breakfast or God knows where because Hermione did not see him until well after lunch...

º×º×º

"Hermione, you're not doing this right," Harry complained for about the umpteenth time that afternoon. He had decided to teach her how to play Exploding Snap, since he was bored, so she figured. Hermione really didn't see the point of it, but thought she'd entertain her best friend all the same.

"Oh, this is so stupid," she groaned.

"That's just because you're losing," Harry teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes and reached for the book she had been trying to read on the nearby table. Just as she leaned over, Ron bustled through the portrait hole, looking flustered to find Harry and Hermione there.

"Where in Merlin's name have you been?" Harry inquired jokingly, getting up from the couch. Ron, however, was lost for words for a moment. Harry and Hermione exchanged looks.

"Erm, just thought I needed a walk, too much Quidditch stress," Ron replied rather unconvincingly.

Hermione gave him a questioning, yet still grumpy look. Ron noticed her gaze, and quickly gave Harry another excuse and ran up to the boys' dormitories. Hermione couldn't help but feel she had scared him off. After all, there was a part of her that wished he had stayed, and maybe helped her learn to play Exploding Snap, since Harry wasn't doing too good of a job with it. But then again, it was Valentine's Day and she hadn't even gotten anything. Not even anything platonic, like a piece of candy from Ginny or someone or other and she couldn't play a stupid, pointless game. And then there was Ron who was acting far more suspicious than anything, probably running off to go snog some mystery girl she knew nothing about. Before Hermione could jump to irrational conclusions (which never happened, or at least on a regular basis) she reconciled with herself that she was just being ridiculous over something that was equally ridiculous. After all, he was just a boy.

º×º×º

Later that night at dinner, Harry had chosen a seat next to Hermione, looking around the Hall frantically.

"I wouldn't bother," Hermione said to him, ladling some potatoes onto her plate, "We haven't seen Ron all day. I suppose he didn't do that Potions essay,"

Harry gave her a strange look as he sat down fully in his seat and began to eat, staring at her questionably.

Secretly, Hermione knew Ron would never miss dinner, especially for a Potions essay of all things. She had noticed though that he had been acting quite strange today but she didn't know why and she didn't like not knowing things. Hermione was really hoping that nothing was wrong and it had nothing to do with the look she had given him earlier that day...or that Mystery Girl she had seemingly made up to feed her animosity.

Hermione bolted down her dinner and bade Harry goodbye who called after her saying "You sure you don't want this treacle tart?" although he had already helped himself to some on his own account, and she headed straight to the library.

Like Ron had said in their second year "You know Hermione, when in doubt, go to the library." And he was right. Hermione was just even more stressed now that even when she went to calm down a bit, all she could think of was some petty little thing Ron had said over four years ago, while he was probably off with Mystery Girl from some other house like Ravenclaw, snogging in the rose bushes or out for a stroll through the trophy room or whatever... Hermione sat down at one of the tables and decided she'd better get started on McGonagall's essay on Human Transformations Gone Horribly Wrong, before she made any more erroneous accusations about Ron and a girl she knew perfectly well did not exist (but still feared may exist, all the same). She had already taken out a book the night before, Why You Shouldn't Magic Your Mother into a Manticore, and began (or attempted) to read.

Hermione opened to the page she had left her quill on to keep her spot and stared at the page. She looked over the words about five times before realizing that she wasn't comprehending anything she had just read. She let out a groan of annoyance. She couldn't read... she couldn't read... It was the worst thing that could happen. It was the end; the planets had aligned, Hell had frozen over, the Chudley Cannons had won the Quidditch World Cup, a thousand to nothing. Was it Lavender's rose that had tampered with her functionality? Partially.Was it the fact that Ron was just another clueless male? More than likely. Was he going to do anything for her on this special day committed to the currently useless and irritating human emotion called love? He most certainly wasn't. Was he out snogging Mystery Ravenclaw Girl who probably didn't exist and making marriage arrangements at that very moment? The ridiculous and often paranoid girl part her brain said "Yes, Hermione, he most certainly is,"

But then again, Ron was just a boy, and based on her experience and what field of knowledge she was referring to, boys were clueless and there was no way under the sky to change that. And was Ron clueless? She decided involuntarily that the answer to that was an indisputable "YES" in flashing neon letters and there was no further questions about the subject. He was just a boy. Wonderful...

Hermione sat there in a frustrated fog, thinking, staring blankly at the beginning of chapter 12 "So, you magicked your mother into a manticore..." and the next thing she knew, she hadn't turned a single page... but there was something strange about the page now...

How long had she been here? An hour? Two hours? Three hours? She didn't know, but all that mattered to her now was that there was something now obstructing the page that certainly was not there previously... Hermione rubbed her eyes, muttering to herself how stupid she was acting, and then opened them fully to see what had made itself comfortable on top of chapter 12. It looked so out of place, yet so beautiful and breathtaking. It was a lily. She stared at it, open mouthed, looking at how beautiful the pure white looked against the faded pages of the aged book. How had she not noticed this? Upon further inspection she discovered that there was ripped piece of parchment tied to the stem. Hermione fumbled with the ribbon that tied it for a moment, feeling considerably stupid (which seemed to be happening an awful lot that day, she added bitterly to herself) and opened the little note to find that a sloppily written poem was printed on it...

I know I'm not perfect

I know I'm not smart

But I'm not too thick to know

About this feeling in my heart

I know you're not one to reckon with

I know your hearts not a toy

But I'm telling you I'm sorry

After all, I'm Just a Boy

Hermione sat there, reading and rereading the poorly written poem in her hands. Despite the fact that there was no literary prowess about the piece to speak of or to even pretend was there, she couldn't stop reading it. She read it over and over as if the mystery of who had placed this here would be revealed upon further investigation.

But somehow, Hermione did know whom it was from, and finally understood that Mystery Ravenclaw girl was not going to win this time. The question that popped into her head was "Suppose Ron is unconsciously a Legilimens?" but that question was almost immediately eliminated from her organized mind that had been unconsciously filed under the category of "Things to think over and research" because it had occurred to her that it took a lot of practice to become a Legilimens... Yet it did seem almost peculiar that Ron had actually picked up on one of her hints, though unintentional... Then another thought came to mind. What in the world was she doing here? There was a common room to get to and some brandishing of lilies to do.

Hermione hurriedly picked up the white lily and tied the note back onto it, ending with a bow, closed the book she was trying to read and hastily sped out of the library and up to Gryffindor tower. Her shoes were quite loud as she speed walked towards the seventh floor, drawing the attention of anyone passing by, but she smiled absentmindedly, not really knowing she was, replaying that moment in her head when the lily in her hand had been discovered before her weary eyes. Perhaps people were clever after all. Perhaps the world was not as hopeless as she had feared.

When she finally came to Gryffindor Tower and came face to face with the Fat Lady, the thought of having to confront Ron in an awkward manner occurred to her. What was she going to say to him? Everything she thought of sounded stupid which made her feel so, and Hermione did not like to feel stupid. Not to mention, was she entirely sure it was Ron? Could it have been that creepy second year boy who had overheard her talking to Ron, and had taken it upon himself to steal her heart? Probably not, but it wasn't as if FOREVER LOVE RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY with a complete set of dental records and identification information was marked across the note like a Confidential stamp, clearly stating the document's purpose and verification of authenticity.

"Ahem," the Fat Lady cleared her throat loudly. Hermione's head snapped toward the portrait, feeling embarrassed that she had lost herself in her thoughts.

"Cornish pixies," she mumbled, and the portrait swung open and she climbed into the common room.

The small circular room was actually quite full when she entered; everyone was chitchatting loudly and didn't seem to notice that she had come in. She immediately scanned the room for Ron and spotted him in front of the fire, his back to her, as Harry animatedly re-enacted a confrontation with Malfoy earlier that week, complete with a commemorative high-pitched voice for their favorite arch-nemesis. Suddenly growing nervous, Hermione weaved her way through the other Gryffindors and found a seat by herself in a large armchair in the corner, where Ron might see her and approach her himself. No one had seemed to notice she was here yet, so she just decided to finally get some reading done while she waited for Mystery Man to come forward.

She laid the lily on her lap in a way that if anyone cared to notice her, they'd most surely notice the lily as well, and opened the book. Yet again, Hermione didn't read but had instead resorted to watching everyone else in the common room over the top of her book. She could see Lavender and Parvati, still playing around with Lavender's rose, the only difference now being that they were placing in different spots in her hair to see where it would look best. A group of third years were playing with the pack of Exploding Snap cards that Harry had left there earlier. And there, in front of the fire, sat Harry and Ron, looking as if they weren't doing anything much, besides poking fun at Malfoy still.

"Hermione!" gasped the voice of Parvati. Hermione immediately looked at her, trying to make it look like she was actually reading and not staring at Ron and Harry. Parvati had obviously noticed the lily in her lap and had taken it upon herself to pick it up for closer examination. She flashed Hermione a playful grin, and quickly looked around the room before looking back at her, this time with her face near Hermione's ear.

"Who got you that?" she whispered excitedly, though loud enough that Lavender could hear. Lavender had just arrived, considering she and Parvati were practically attached at the hip, her fingers running over her pink rose almost as if trying to assure herself that it was still something special, eying the lily warily. Hermione snatched the lily back from Parvati and gave her a stern look that told her that she wasn't telling, though the truth was that Hermione really wasn't quite sure who it was to begin with. Parvati raised her eyebrows and immediately began to question every male in the room, with Lavender trailing behind, trying to draw her best friend's attention back to the rose of which they had not decided looked better behind her ear or tucked in one of her pigtails.

Hermione smiled inwardly at her revenge and glanced over at Ron and Harry again. Harry's mocking show had now reached a group of younger students who were laughing furiously, but Hermione looked long enough to notice that Ron was now looking back her nervously. He had heard what Parvati was asking every other boy in the room and his ears had turned their infamous scarlet. Parvati, who was still making rounds, had apparently noticed this once she approached Ron and started giggling uncontrollably, finding it safe that she didn't have to ask any longer.

Ron grinned at Hermione shyly and she beamed back at him. Hermione knew that her Mystery Man wouldn't quite reveal himself just yet, but she had a feeling that he had to eventually, and probably at an inconvenient or completely inappropriate time, as could only be expected. After all, he was just a boy.