What's In A Name?

She had an odd name, the kind of name it took you forever to learn because absolutely no one else had one like it. When she first saw the young witch at the Sorting ceremony, Hannah Abbott memorized it because of the chocolate-brown eyes that drew her in without her knowing why. Before nightfall, however, she had forgotten it. It began with an H, and it ended with an E; of that much she was certain, but of what came between she no longer had the least idea.

Transfiguration with McGonagall the next day solved that problem, at least temporarily. Hannah was elated to see that the dark-haired girl was in her class. From the back of the room, twirling a blonde pigtail around her finger, she watched her assiduously taking notes. When the Gryffindor was the only student to have any success with the task given at the end of the period, Hannah cheered silently for her. Although the points weren't going to Hufflepuff, Hannah felt almost as if they were her own points, just the same. Hermione, she thought, begging the name to stay in her mind. Hermione Granger.

It was gone within hours. Hannah wrote it down, then couldn't remember how to pronounce it. She resorted to mnemonic devices to recall the slippery word. Hurt-my-own-knee, she repeated over and over to herself. The importance of recalling the name of a girl she had never spoken a word to, a girl no better looking than herself, she didn't know. But that intelligence, so far above her own, and the innocent yet captivating air that the other witch gave off kept her trying.

That little thrill of pride continued to run through Hannah each time the girl stuck up her hand in class and gave the right answer. She inwardly despised the other students for resenting her idol and calling her a know-it-all behind her back. It only took her a few more weeks to get the name right, but Hannah kept following Hermione's progress from afar during the following years. She worried when the other witch got herself into trouble and celebrated her every achievement.

But it wasn't until sixth year, when all her staring had finally gotten her somewhere, that she admitted to herself that this was more than just respect or admiration.

It wasn't until she was crying out "Hermione!" to the dark-haired witch kneeling before her that she knew she was in love.