Hermione Granger was absolutely, positively not in love with Ron Weasley, and she would hex anyone that said otherwise.

Sure, she had run from the common room when she saw Ron kissing Lavender, but that was normal. No one wanted to see one of their best friends snogging a girl, it's just gross. That was the excuse Hermione used when she felt the bile rise up in her stomach.

And all those things she felt around Ron? Silly teenage hormones, ready to latch onto any suitable target. Sure, she had no feelings for Harry like that, but that was because he was like a brother to her. It was those silly hormones that liked Ron's freckles, or the smell of his hair. It was common for a friend to want to please another friend, but it was those silly hormones that made her pulse quicken whenever he sent her a smile, only for her. Those silly hormones were the ones that, for one second, imagined Ron kissing her instead of Lavender. But differently, tenderly, like she was the center of his universe.

Hermione growled. Where did she get these ideas? Lavender and Parvarti's stupid babbling caused this in her, any sane human would get these thoughts after six years of it.

Her mind traveled again, it was hard not to, with Ron's laughter filling the common room. She was trying to study, Ron. Ron, won't you stop? Please? Hermione doesn't like what her heart is doing.

Sometimes Ron would lightly punch her in the arm, when he got too excited. It both irritated her and made her happy. Happy when he would panic when he realized what he had done, like hurting her physically pained him. Sometimes he would rub circles into the spot, trying to subside the pain. It was the silly teenage hormones that never told him to stop unprompted, or that it never hurt enough in the first place for that to happen. And a bit angered when he thought of her so delicate in the first place. Irritated that he thought of her as one of his guy friends, the ones he would get so excited for Quidditch with. She wasn't Harry, Dean or Seamus. She was Hermione Granger, a girl.

And it was frustrating because Ron never seemed to think of her that way. He scarcely remembered and always saw her as the second option, the "Oh, hey, you're a girl." He was so pig-headed sometimes, she should hate him. But she didn't. Because those times were out-weighed by the times were he was funny, brave or clever. Ron, why can't you be worse?

Why did she feel this irrational need to make him happy, even if it meant breaking the rules? Why did she cast that stupid confundus charm just so she could see him have that grin on his face, because she knew how much he wanted it? It didn't matter much, he was an excellent keeper. But why didn't he see that, instead of comparing himself to others?

Why didn't he see that she believed him? Harry put on a very convincing act, that's all. Why did he have to go with his stupid pig-headed confidence and snog Lavender? Why did she want to make him hurt the same way he had hurt her? She shouldn't have been hurt, because she didn't love Ron.

She needed someone to ask for the Slug Club Christmas party. A name popped up, Cormac McLaggen. Now, he couldn't be so bad…could he?