A Match Made in Heaven

Hermione inhaled deeply as she stepped into the library at Hogwarts. As always when she entered those hallowed stacks, all her worries and cares seemed to vanish, dissipating into the dust that covered the aging tomes.

Wiping away the remnants of her recent tears, she sat down at her favorite table in the corner, pulling out her battered Hogwarts, A History, which fell open magically to the place she had left off. She stared at the page for a few minutes, mulling over the events that had caused her to seek out her favorite retreat.

Hermione loved her best friends very much, but when it came down to it, they were very different from her. Granted, they were all different from each other, but those things didn't usually matter. Lately, however, the fact that they were boys and she was a girl had become a major issue that she could no longer ignore.

It wasn't that Harry and Ron talked about girls — it was that they talked about girls all the time! Any time she tried to interject something into the conversation, usually having to do with the subject's intelligence or personality, all she received were two blank stares. Then they would quickly resume discussing the subject's...other attributes.

And just tonight, she had walked into the common room only to find Harry and Ron each engaged in snogging...come to think of it, she didn't actually see who the bimbos were! She had ducked back out of the nearly deserted room and dashed off, tears of anger and sadness overflowing her eyes.

She wasn't jealous. No, that wasn't true. She was jealous, but not of either of those anonymous witches. No, the thing Hermione envied was the connection that her best friends automatically shared because of their gender.

She shook herself quickly before the tears could start again. After all, she thought, they were seventeen; this was only natural. She could hardly blame them for having hormones. Contrary to popular belief, she had a healthy set of her own. Trouble was, she simply wasn't interested in any of the boys at Hogwarts.

One might think that after over six years of friendship, she would be attracted to Harry or Ron. Hermione always laughed at the suggestion. After all of their trials, squabbles, and adventures, how could she think of either of them as anything more or less than a brother? True, Ron had that crush on her before, but that was long gone.

The next suggestion was usually one of the other Gryffindor boys. This one always made her roll her eyes. Dean and Seamus were very nice, but she really had nothing in common with either of them. And while she felt a bit protective of Neville and genuinely liked him, she knew they were on completely different levels.

From here, suggestion began of the other boys in her year. Justin Finch-Fletchley was cute, wasn't he? And according to his housemates, he had a dark, mysterious side. Maybe so, Hermione always said, but frankly, she didn't know him all that well and wasn't particularly attracted.

What about Terry Boot, then, if she was looking for a fellow intellectual? Hermione had actually entertained this suggestion for a while, until she found out that he had the personality of balsa wood and had considerably less common sense. She never again wondered why she was in Gryffindor and not Ravenclaw.

Okay then, her companion would say with a giggle, what about Draco Malfoy? Now there was a gorgeous boy, and not an idiot either! The first time she heard this suggestion, Hermione's jaw dropped. This had to be the most outrageous of them all; Malfoy had spent his entire Hogwarts career insulting Hermione and her friends. As if she could ever have feelings someone as nasty and evil as that!

Some people even went on to suggest other Weasleys, namely Percy and the twins. These, she dismissed easily. She got on well with Percy, but he was quite a bit older than her, wasn't he, and in her opinion, needed to straighten out his priorities. Fred, she reminded them, had Angelina Johnson, besides the fact that Hermione had always disapproved of his and George's wild antics. All they cared about was jokes and Quidditch.

The final suggestion was that, perhaps, she was more inclined towards the same sex? She always shook her head here and pointed out her short relationship with Viktor Krum. Not that there was anything wrong with homosexuality, of course, it just wasn't her cup of tea.

No, Hermione would sigh and say with a smile, there really wasn't anyone at Hogwarts for her.

Her head finally clear, she turned to her book and began to read about the convoluted romantic entanglements of the four Founders. Some historians believed Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been lovers, while others placed Ravenclaw with Slytherin, and still others advocated Slytherin with Hufflepuff...

Augh! Even here, she couldn't get away from romance!

She sighed heavily and glared at the page. "I thought you, of all people, would be the last to betray me," she whispered, thinking simultaneously that talking to a book was not a sign of mental stability.

"I would never betray you."

Her head shot up. She looked around, but didn't see anyone. "Wonderful, I really am going crazy."

"You're not crazy."

Hermione leapt up and turned around in circles. "Who said that? Where are you?"

"Right in front of you," the voice said.

She looked but saw nothing. This grew increasingly frustrating, as the detached voice was not only invisible, but definitely unfamiliar, masculine, and, with a light Scottish accent, dead sexy. "I still don't see you," she said with a touch of annoyance.

"Look down." She did, but saw only the worn pages of her book.

"Books don't talk," she declared, giving said volume a stern look.

"Are you so sure about that, Hermione?"

Her eyes widened. It couldn't be...could it? She had to admit, stranger things had happened. "The fact that I'm even entertaining this suggestion is a sign I should pack up and head to St. Mungo's."

The voice chuckled, a low, throaty sound. He (as Hermione was coming to think of the mysterious voice) wasn't mocking her, though, unlike some others she could name. To her incredulity, she felt herself blush.

"Okay, then," she said, "if you really are a talking book, prove it."

"As you wish," he said. Hermione allowed herself a small smile, reminded of one of her favorite movies. Before she could think anymore, though, something incredible stole her attention away.

The text describing Gryffindor's creation of the Sorting Hat blurred as a strange sort of fluid vapor began seeping out of the book itself. It swirled around for a few moments before settling into a defined, but colorless, shape. Hermione gasped. Page 47 of Hogwarts, A History now had the face of a teenage boy coming out of it. She grabbed her wand and whispered a quick "Finite Incantatem," certain that someone was playing a trick on her from behind a shelf.

The boy gazed amusedly at her. "Convinced yet?" he asked with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. Hermione didn't know what to say. It seemed that this was indeed real, unless she was crazier than she thought. On top of that, she felt a flutter in her chest. Whoever he was, his face was even more gorgeous than his voice.

She had to say something. "I — I don't understand. What — I mean, how —"

He seemed to know what she meant without any further explanation. "I don't fully understand it, myself. I'm sure you know that all magical objects have some degree of animation, including magic books." She nodded, thinking of golden snitches and The Monster Book of Monsters. "Well, then, doesn't it make sense that if a particular object, say for instance, me," he winked, causing her to giggle, "spent six and a half years as the most beloved possession of a powerful, intelligent witch, it might, after awhile, have absorbed enough of the love and life and magic poured into it by said witch to become fully animate, even conscious?"

Her head was spinning, so she sat back down. This was impossible, and yet she couldn't think of a single reason it might be untrue. "Why..."

"Why haven't I spoken before?" he finished, once again reading her mind. She nodded. "Believe me, I would have if I had been able to, but language was the last ability that came to me. I've been — waking up, really — slowly over the past year." He laughed again, lowering his eyelids briefly in embarrassment. She couldn't help notice how long his lashes were. "You'd think that being a book, words would be the first thing to come to me."

Hermione smiled broadly, shedding the last of her doubts. "All right, then. Pleasure to meet you, er...what should I call you? Hogwarts, A History is a bit long."

His face turned pensive, which made him look even nicer. "That's a good question. How about...Hal? That's sort of my initials, but it's a real name."

"Just like Henry the Fifth," she remarked.

"Exactly. And it's wonderful to finally talk to you, Hermione, although I met you so long ago I feel like I know you well already."

"And you still want to talk to me?" she asked. "I'd think that six and a half years with an insufferable know-it-all like me would scare you away."

He looked shocked. "Insufferable? Hermione, your thirst for knowledge gave me life. I owe my entire existence to you."

She blushed again. "I don't know what to say..."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, no, don't apologize. I'm glad you're here. It's nice to talk to someone who knows who Prince Hal is."

He smiled widely, and she noticed for the first time the dimple that formed in his right cheek. "I know what you mean. Ever since I became conscious, it's become harder and harder for me to connect with the other books. I've been looking forward to breaking the language barrier a long time. You don't know how hard it is to be isolated," he said with a touch of sadness.

"Actually, Hal," she said softly, "I do know what you mean." At his questioning expression, she explained her recent distance from her best friends. The words came tumbling out, sentences running together. Hal, though, didn't get lost or ask her to slow down, just regarded her seriously and nodded encouragingly. "I don't know, maybe I just want to have the feelings that they're having, to have someone special outside of the three of us who will be there for me when they're not..." she trailed off wistfully.

Hal looked up at her with a thoughtful expression. "Hermione...I'm here for you." She blinked in surprise. Was it her imagination, or did that slight thickening of the vapors on his cheeks mean he was blushing? "I know I'm just a book but, well...I think I've fallen in love with you." Her eyes widened. "Don't hate me, please? It's just that...we're so much alike, you know? And like I said, I'd never betray you. I don't know many people, but I can't imagine finding a more perfect match...Anyway, I had to get that off my chest. Couldn't keep it in any longer. I'll understand if you want me to go away now..."

"Hal, don't go," she said quickly. "Please?" He looked uncertain, but stayed.

Hermione didn't know what to do. She'd had three major shocks in a minor space of time. Shock the first: Hogwarts, A History could talk. Shock the second: Hogwarts, A History was in love with her. Shock the third...was almost too much to think about.

She mulled it over in her mind. Once she got past the overall absurdity of it, it made an odd amount of sense. For six and a half years, she'd sought solace in this book. It — or rather, he — was her only friend during those times when she'd been at odds with Harry and Ron. She knew his every page, each loose thread in his binding. Why, she talked about and referred to him more than any other person or thing! Despite his familiarity, rereading the text never bored her. Finally, as Hal had just demonstrated, she probably had more in common with him than she did with any other boy she knew: a love of knowledge, a passion towards a favorite subject, and a shared experience of loneliness. Suddenly, it made perfect sense. Shock the third wasn't a shock anymore; it was rational and heartfelt.

"Hermione?" Hal questioned, jolting her out of her reverie. "Are you okay?"

She looked into his eyes. "Yes, I'm fine. In fact, I've never been better." He blinked and tilted his head to the side, causing a lock of his hair to fall over his slightly creased forehead. She grinned again. "Hal...I think I've fallen for you, too."

His mouth dropped slightly open in shock. "You have? But I'm just a book."

"So? What's the difference between a human-book love and a human-giant, or a human-veela one? For that matter, how is it different from an inter-racial relationship? All that matters is that we love each other." She watched as the incredulity melted away from his face to be replaced by a look of pure happiness. She smiled mischievously. "Now kiss me, you silly book, before I get angry and stuff you in the bookcase."

He raised his eyebrows. "I'd be happy to take care of the lip action, darling, but you're going to have to do the rest."

"With pleasure, Hal." And with that, Hermione slowly tilted her most beloved of all tomes up to meet her own face...