I think I am in love with you.

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You sigh, closing the eyes. You find yourself alone in the aisle of the third floor, after you lost your twin some staircases more down: he is slow or Angelina has kidnapped him behind you. You shake the head, worried about other thoughts.

George is able to manage this kind of situation, George is strong.

You, on the contrary, are not cool. It is obvious, bloody hell if it’s obvious.

You adjust the book, almost lost in the foolish run with George, and walk down towards a comfortable sit, illuminated by a window. You sit there, throwing your sweater faraway and leaning the head against the glass, in the vain attempt to rest.

Just a second of break to stop thinking of Hermione Granger, a moment of calm without that overactive girl. Still, even now, with her name on the tip of your tongue, your lips smile. Bloody hell, If you are not strong.

– Fred! – a voice brings you back to the reality, while you massage your chest, – I’ve told you that playing Quidditch here would have proved to be a stupid idea! – Hermione probably now is complaining with the rest of you brother, included Ginny.  

She looks at them with an upset frown, while you trying to get up.

– I’m fine, Granger. – you say, reach out a hand to her. Hermione raises an eyebrow in your direction, contemptuous of hate.  She knows of course that it was your idea to play in the living room.

– I’m especially mad at you. – she underlines, taking your hand.

– Then, I will do may best to be the first one you forgive. – Smiling, you raise yourself, taking advantage from the hold to bring her closer. It’s a whisper, that no one else is able to understand, partly because all of your brother are trying to catch the golden snitch. Hermione gasps, while she squeezes your foot and then she runs away embarrassed.

The glass, before fresh under your temple, is warming up a little bit for you and a little bit for the sun that shines through the faraway hills. You don’t open your eyes, mostly because she is not in front of you: you don’t have any reasons at all to look at something that it’s not her blushing face.

Your lips open up in a malicious smile, thinking of her in the library, incapable to study because of you.

You stare at the girl, while she is looking around her.

– Are you searching something? – you ask, frightened her. It is beautiful to know the answer of you own questions, is beautiful to be always a step ahead her.

– Where the hell have you been? It is against the rule to be out of the dor… – Hermione rises a finger upon you, while you show off a warm smile, – What am I telling you for? – she tells you then, sitting on the armchair. Unexpected.

You bend in front of her, who frustrated is holding her hands, – What? – you tilt the head of some degrees, raising an eyebrow a little bit.

– I give up, you won. – she says, sighing. That she’s admit a defeat is incredible, but that she’s admit to have lost against you is absurd.

– I’m not going to allow this. – you tell her purely, meeting her eyes with yours, – There is no way anyone who is not you, scolds me. –

– What about your mum? – Hermione smiles, while her cheeks tinge with a tender red. You laugh at this line, while she leaves you stunned for the second time in the same evening. Damn you, Hermione Granger.

Some footsteps wakes you up from that twilight sleeps. You smile, feeling the speed and the heaviness with which they are made: she must be really upset.

You shake you hair and unbutton your shirt: to face Hermione it’s necessary to be prepared both mentally and physically and you, luckily, are totally prepared.

She looks at you with an huffy expression, when you sit next to her in the Great Hall: it’s already too much having you in the Common Room, how she could bare having you around even now?

– Milk? Tea? Chocolate? – you ask her, while a pair of jealous girl turn towards you. You shake the backs with evident happiness, while she is trying not to laugh.

– What are you doing? – she lift up an eyebrow, amused by your attempt to be kind and caring.

– I’m nice to you, don’t you like it? –

– It worries me. – she makes clear, catching the pumpkin juice in front of you, avoiding you help.

– Does this worry you more then the kiss of yesterday evening? – you ask spontaneously, reminding with joy that touch so much wanted by both of you. Hermione gasps and then she turn to you, – Because I prefer to kiss, rather than offer you something to drink. – You calmly conclude, while half of the students look at you.

George is not able to keep the laughter, followed quickly by his sister, while you, enchanted by Hermione’s awkwardness, kiss her.

– You are obscene. – Hermione’s voice reaches you with the same speed of her footsteps.

– Obscene or enchantix? – you open an eye with reluctance, but when you see her in front of you, with sleeves rolled up and the bushing face, you devote her all your gaze.

– Do I really have to answer? – she asks you, biting her lip and then she sits close to you sweater, thrown away some minutes before. You deny, smiling.

– I’ve been looking for you for more than one hour. – she explodes, checking you out with fire eye. You raise you back in surrender, while she seems to curse you.

– You can’t really be anger with me because you are not able to find people. – you say, keeping a calm laughter. Hermione sighs, repressing the wish to kill you. How is it possible to find you, when you are always everywhere and nowhere at the same time?

Hermione is not brave, and you are not strong, but somehow you ended up in this relationship, mainly because you wanted it, you desired something that could bring happiness and joy to both of you. A relationship that, more or less, would have made you braver and stronger together.

– Fred, I must tell you something. – she raises the eyes and crosses her gaze with yours, – I think I am in love with you. –

You lean upon her face, moving your forehead near hers. She totally knows your emotions, but you want to say out loud your love, – Me too. – you whisper so close to her lips and while she’s smiling, you passionately kiss her.


Sia ℘


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