I own nothing. Again, this is just off the top of my head.

It all happened slowly.

The first thing she noticed differently were his eyes. She guessed they'd always been that way. A vibrant blue, but she couldn't describe what shade. The color of the sky was too light. The color of a blue crayon was too plastic. It was a unique blue, one she knew that no one would ever really be able to catch on paper, much less herself. Hermione was no artist.

They'd always been about the same height, all three of them. Until last year, that is. All of a sudden he was tall, taller than Harry. She lost some intimidation with him: having to look up even a little bit takes away some amount of power. Strangely, she found herself not minding.

She'd never been able to imagine him as strong. When she thought about him, it was usually accompanied by thoughts of a stick-figured boy who complained if she asked him to hold her Ancient Runes book while she dug around in her bag. But now... he still had the same form, but there was so much more muscle. He was skin and bones no longer. Somehow he'd figured out how to be lanky with effectively strong arms.

Hermione chuckled to herself as she thought of his voice. That was definitely not the same as before. It was deeper now, and had a very different effect. At first she'd just smile quietly in amusement. But lately it'd started tickling her bones. "'Mione" echoed around in her head. And when he'd talk early in the morning, going on about how much he hated Transfiguration, it took quite a bit of discipline to tell him to be quiet.

Somehow all this had happened while she had her nose in a book. Because no matter what, Ronald Weasley would only be able to change the rules if she wasn't looking. Because when Ron changed the rules, Hermione was never quite sure how to react.

I've been just throwing short little fics out lately... hope y'all don't mind... Review please!