Dear Harry

Dear Harry,

Every time we are together,

I insist on studying.

Every time we are apart,

I wish to hold your hand.

And now I do hold your hand, and I play with your ear and then I work my way to your lips. You tuck my hair behind my ears, embrace my love inside your arms and your hands strongly hold my hips. But this was only in my dreams; for you were dating Cho.

I cried all day and night, knowing that if nothing went wrong, you would be taken and sure to like it. But after that, word got around, that it did not go all right. I was then free to skip and laugh, for I could have you to myself. Then, I realized how much I truly love you. I coached Ginny out of liking you. But, oh, how I was jealous when she was saved by her hero. Now she is history, like Cho. She was too sensitive Harry, still on the rebound, still crying if you mentioned her dead love's name. Anything you said would bring her to tears. And so, you did not become hers, and she not yours.

Whatever you say to me,

is memorized in my head,

locked inside my heart,

and the key thrown away.

Whatever you said to me,

good or bad,

touched my soul.

Whenever you were close enough,

I inhaled your scent deeply.

Whenever you brushed pass me,

I almost swore never to wash.

I would love to see your body,

I love to hear you talk,

and I would love to taste your lips against mine.

"Be mine," I would cry. "Love me and only me," I would repeat. How much I would have to control myself to not run up to you and kiss every inch of your body. Oh, and how I would blush when your emerald green eyes caught my honey brown ones. I was 'embarrassed' when you said my name.

I know I belong with you; we are two in a million. Please take my hand. Hold me close with the other. Please tell me sweet things in my ears. Show me your affections in slow motion. Let you want me the way I want you.

Be happy that you and I are under the stars. Take me away into the skies. But how could you love me? You, you are the famous Harry Potter. I read about you in books. I, I am no one special; to anyone. So I bid my goodbyes. After our seventh year at Hogwarts, we will leave each other and never see each other again. I maybe will only see you in the Daily Prophet, or in another book.

Will I be yours?

Will you be mine?

Or should I continue,

to say my goodbyes?

Love ----

Harry stopped reading the letter he found on the table and looked up, watching a girl come through the portrait. Hermione froze, looking at the letter in his hand and back to him.

Hermione spoke, "I-I..."

Harry whispered, "Shh." He took one of her hands and with the other pulled her close. He whispered again, "Hermione?" Then he pushed her hair behind her ear.

"I wanted to be under the stars!" Hermione exclaimed.

"But the moonlight shines down on us instead," Harry spoke softly in her ear. "Your letter is unfinished." He felt Hermione bore her eyes into him as if she were confused. "It says," he continued, "Love..."

"Hermione," Hermione finished his sentence as his eyes caught hers again. "Harry, I..."

"Shhh," Harry told her as his lips swiftly came down upon hers.