Disclaimer: I own nothing but the creative ideas I have for seducing Ron Weasley, were he real. Yum.
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September, 1991
This frumpy little thing with way too much hair and the biggest teeth I’ve ever seen just barged into the compartment I was sharing with Harry Potter. THE Harry Potter! She’s demanding we answer some stupid question, but I’m just glaring at her. Who does she think she is? Now I’m all angry and she forces me to do that spell, but it doesn’t go right because I’m a bit agitated and the moment. But you know what? She didn’t need to be so mean about it and then start interrogating Harry like he’s some research assignment. Sometimes I just wish looks could kill, because I do NOT want to deal with that for seven whole years. Oi.
October, 1991
So, the Know-It-All can break rules? I would have never guessed in a million years. I’m just kinda staring at her in shock as she tells McGonagall some story about Harry and me saving her. Nice of her, I suppose. To take the blame, I mean. It was kind of my fault she was in trouble to begin with. Great. Now I can’t quite look her in the eye. I guess I’ll settle for staring at my shoes… at least they don’t make me feel so guilty.
June, 1992
I need an explanation immediately. We were trying to stop Snape and the next thing I know I’m in a hospital bed and the first thing I see when I open my eyes is loads and loads of brown hair. Before I even have time to register that I’m bandaged heavily and have a horrible headache, she launches into the whole story of what happened and how I won the chess game for them and Harry beat Quirrel, and- Wait, Quirrel? What? She refuses to answer my babbling stream of incoherent questions, though. For now, I guess during her story time I’ll just have to listen and keep an eye on her hands as they fly everywhere when she emphasizes her points.
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August, 1992
I’m searching frantically with Mum for any sign of that messy hair or those round glasses, but thus far we haven’t had much luck. My eyes keep scanning the bustling crowds and finally, they land on someone else I was searching for, though in the back of my mind. I run up to her and greet her ever so pleasantly with a rushed “We’ve-lost-Harry-through-the-floo-network-have-you-seen-him-anywhere?” And she, instead of being alarmed as anyone other than Harry’s best friends would, immediately begins helping us search, even more frantically. Blimey, she’s like my mum when it comes to him.
April, 1993
My eyes cannot comprehend what is right in front of them. I’m just standing here in shock, examining her frozen body. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Hermione may be a muggle-born, but she wasn’t one of the ones in actual danger! I dunno, I just thought she could’ve used her “light reading” as a shield or something! I cannot believe that this is even real, and I just have to reach out to touch her. Her skin is warm, though unyielding. At least that makes things a little better. Harry and I look at each other and I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. Without her, we’re never going to figure this one out.
May, 1993
I walk into the feast and my eyes immediately glance up and down Gryffindor table. I’m pretty sure she should be back by now, but I don’t see her. I settle for sitting next to Fred and waiting for Harry to finish with Dumbledore, but my eyes cannot help but dart back to the doorway every few seconds or so just in case she turns up. Around 500 inconspicuous glances later, I see her. She does the same thing I did when I was looking for her earlier; her eyes scanning the crowd looking for a familiar face or two. I wave my arms to attract her attention and I catch her eye. Beaming, she comes over to join me, striking up a conversation about how she can’t believe we did it and of course, asking where Harry is. I’m so glad she’s alive and moving that my story-telling is a bit over-zealous, but who cares, really? To top it all off, I can’t help but notice it’s an added bonus to have a conversation with her in the Great Hall without watching her eyes dart up to the professor’s table every thirty seconds looking for that idiot. Best thing to come of all of this really, his being gone. I’m just saying.
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September, 1993
Can someone tell me why I am the only person on the planet who notices that she’s hiding something? She keeps vanishing and reappearing during the day, she walks with us to class one minute but gets there ten minutes late, and I’ve had a few looks at her schedule and she just doesn’t make sense! I’ve mentioned it to Harry plenty of times, but I can’t blame him for ignoring it; poor bloke’s got a bit more on his mind. I just want to know what’s going on that’s such a big secret! I mean, just last year we let her go off on her own without explaining and she wound up petrified. I’ve given up asking, because I know she’s stubborn and won’t let on, but I’m not going to stop noticing it. Someone’s got to keep an eye on her.
January, 1994
I cannot believe she could possibly be so heartless. For weeks now I’ve been scrutinizing her every move. We’re not talking. Hell; I don’t think we’re even friends anymore. But I just can’t get over the fact that she is able to walk around like nothing’s different; like the only change is her workload. She doesn’t even look like she feels bad! If she refuses to feel guilty, then I refuse to believe she has a heart. Or a soul. Or that she even exists. But I’ll keep watching for that guilt. She may not exist at the moment, but that doesn’t mean she can’t redeem herself. All I want is a confession and an apology. I mean sure, groveling would be nice, but maybe if I let her off easy she’ll finally tell me what’s up with her strange, not-guilty, behavior. Not that I care. I’m just worried. Which is different than caring, I swear.
June, 1994
There is no possible way to take all of this in in on day. First, she practically tackles me, just because I forgave her. (I told her all she had to do was apologize!) Next, she basically tells Trelawney to sod off, which was possibly the most shocking thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen Fred and George at their finest. Then, as if the day could possibly get any more action packed, she slaps Malfoy right across the face. Hands down the hottest thing I’ve ever seen a girl do. Er- well, I mean, it’s like I said. Shocking. I don’t even know how to react to all of this, but I know I will never see her the same way again, that’s for sure.
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August, 1994
For the first time ever, Hermione has come to stay with us at the Burrow. She reacted just like Harry; loving it all so much, even though the place is a ruddy dump. We’re both really excited for the Quidditch World Cup, but a bit anxious to hear back from Harry whether he can come or not. She’s a bit worried because she says mum might’ve sent the letter a bit funny, and she thinks the Dursleys might overreact. But for the time being, it’s just nice to have some non-Ginger blood in the house to keep me sane. Though, to be honest, I can’t help but peek over every time Fred and George do something to make her laugh or Percy starts having some boring conversation with her that she is just so interested in. I know I’m probably the least special of all of us, but she’s my best friend, isn’t she? Besides, if she wants some quality Weasley time otherwise, there’s nothing wrong with Ginny! I thought the two of them got on rather well at school, so I dunno why she needs to spend so much time with the gits in my family.
December, 1994
My eyes won’t stop. I need to make them stop. They’ve just been raking her up and down because… because she’s bloody gorgeous. I don’t know how I only just noticed her teeth recently, because they’re perfect. Everything is perfect. Why on earth would she hide this? I don’t understand her. I don’t understand anything. I just need to stop staring, so I’ll have to settle for looking at the floor. It’s a sight better than staring at her like a fool, especially when she’s with that ruddy Quidditch player. Of all people, HE is the one she decides to be all pretty for? It’s ridiculous. What’s he got that I haven’t? Besides Hermione, I mean. I don’t want her or anything… I mean, we’re mates, but still. He’s like, the anti-mate. He’s the enemy here. This whole thing is ridiculous.
June, 1995
Maybe it’s just because this is the first task that we can’t see what’s going on, seeing as we were both unconscious for the second task and we got to watch Harry fight the dragon in the first one, but Hermione is going absolutely insane. She hasn’t let go of my arm for over twenty minutes and I’ve lost nearly all feeling in it. Her other hand is clutching her face and she just keeps dancing up and down and asking me if I think he’s ok. I can’t help but study her reactions. I mean, I’m worried, too, but she just seems… almost too worried. I wonder if maybe she’s started to fancy him or whatever. I keep studying her as she jumps at the smallest noise and keeps craning her neck as though she’ll be able to find an angle that somehow allows her to see through shrubbery, and it all seems quite dramatic for someone who is just a friend. No one else is going this insane, not even Ginny, and we all know how Ginny feels about the situation.
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October, 1995
You know, there’s often times when I just have to sit back and admire Hermione. Some of her spell work, her ability to retain information, and even just her determination for things is downright awe-inspiring. Take now for example. She is so set on running this defense group until Harry can finally stop being such a modest, angsty git and get his act together. She’s come up with brilliant ideas, like hexing the list and having us meet in the Hog’s Head and everything. I just don’t know how she does it. She’s really just… just something else.
November, 1995
I have been paying close attention to Hermione for years now, and she still manages to surprise me daily. Why the hell did she just kiss me on the cheek? Where did that even come from? I know it’s my first match and all, but Harry’s playing, too! What was she thinking? I’m just kind of gawking at her back as she walks away from us and heads to the stands. I have no words; I can literally only replay what just happened in my head over and over. Just for the record, it still makes no sense.
March, 1996
She’s been writing that novel for hours, and the whole thing is going to Vicky?! I thought she had moved on from him! Didn’t we agree that he was the enemy? Well, now that I think of it, we didn’t really agree…. But she’s been so focused on Harry! I’m just leering at her as she continues writing. How could she be so stupid? She is never going to win Harry over if she keeps that bloody Bulgarian around. I swear, she just makes me so angry when she does things like this. She makes everything harder on herself, and it literally hurts me to watch her come so close to ruining her chances. Mind you, it also hurts a bit when she finally gets it right from time to time and she and Harry are chatting merrily as though I don’t exist anymore, but when I find someone and I’m not so much of a third wheel, it’ll sort itself out. I just need to find someone for myself. Trouble is, I’m spending so much time watching over Hermione that I’m leaving almost no time to look after someone I actually fancy. But hey, right now, friends come first. Once I’m sure she’s happy, then I can move on to making myself happy.
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November, 1996
I have never been so intent on analyzing a plant in my entire life. Everything was going as usual; Hermione and I were enjoying some playful bickering, Harry was rolling his eyes and being a bit moody, Herbology was boring… and then she goes and pulls the bloody rug out from under me again. I think, and I may be wrong here, but I really do think she may have just asked me to go to a party with her. As in, together with her. I can’t be sure, though. It’s also entirely plausible she just wants to go as friends, and I’m unsure of how to take it. I have to admit, though, when she asked if I’d rather she go with McLaggen, I meant what I said. I would rather she go with me than him. In fact, I’d rather she go with me than a lot of people… Blimey, I’m so good at seeing things people do, I just wish I could see what they were thinking! Granted, that wouldn’t help much either, because I can hear my own thoughts and I still have no idea what I want anymore. I guess I’ll just play this one the best way I know how; the next few days I’ll pay even closer attention to how she acts around me. If anything changes, maybe I’ll take this as a together together sort of thing… and then maybe I’ll acknowledge the tiny leaping in my chest when that idea comes up. But, if nothing changes? We go as friends, all is well, and I take a nice long vacation from homework because it’s seriously messing with my brain patterns.
December, 1996
This may be the first time I have ever been unable to look at Hermione. I don’t understand what she’s crying about. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with Lavender! And she’s got Krum! I mean, I guess he’s far away, but Harry’s right here, isn’t he? So I don’t know why she’s doing this. Merlin, I wish she’d stop crying. I can’t look at her again. I’ve already got that image burned in my brain. This isn’t my fault. I never wanted this to happen. Well, I mean, I guess I kind of did… But she wasn’t supposed to cry! It’s my turn, now. Can’t she see that? It’s my turn to be the one who has someone. I know I said I’d go to that party, but she and Harry can go now. Honestly, I’m pretty much helping her out here. Giving her a push in the right direction, since she hasn’t gathered the courage to make a move on her own or anything. Oh, Hermione… Please stop crying. I can’t bear it.
June, 1997
The whole funeral has been absolutely heartbreaking. Everyone and their mother is here right now and it’s absolutely awful. There’s so much crying. I keep peering out of the corner of my eye at her and she hasn’t broken yet, but I’m pretty sure it’s coming. Hell, I’m probably going to break soon. Things are just… They just can’t get worse. I peer over again but she’s not where she was a second ago. Right before I can turn my head to see what she’s doing, I feel a weight on my shoulder and realize she has finally broken down. I put my arms around her and start to lose it myself. Everything’s blurry but I can still see her clutching at me, and I grip her even tighter. And you know something? I’ve spent years keeping my eye on her, and never once looked at myself in all of this. Because I’m pretty sure I don’t want to help her and Harry get together. He has Ginny. They’re together even now. The way I see things, there’s nothing wrong with this way of looking at things. There’s nothing wrong with… Well, there’s nothing wrong with us.
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August, 1997
Ever since I had that revelation and I read through that Fred and George’s ruddy book, I’ve started a new routine. I’m still paying attention to her, noticing the things she does, but now I’m making a sincere effort to get her to look at me from time to time as well. I keep watch over her constantly, and I always have. Is it that awful to want her to do the same for me? I don’t really think so. So today, when she walked in to the yard looking the way she did, all dressed up just like she was nearly 3 years ago, I didn’t look away. I gazed at her and I hoped she’d see. I want her to feel my gaze. I want her to feel what I feel.
January, 1998
That locket really got to me. It anticipated my every move. Ronald Weasley, constantly watching, making sure he doesn’t miss things… Well, the locket made sure I missed nothing. The locket even made sure I saw things that didn’t actually exist. Defeating that Horcrux and hearing Harry tell me that the two of them have nothing more than platonic love for one another? It’s like my eyes have been completely reopened to everything in the world. So now, now that I’ve returned and she’s angry, I need to make her see. I need her to understand. So for as long as it takes, I’m watching. Every reaction, every subconscious motion, I don’t miss any of it. I cannot bear the notion that if I stop watching or if I miss out on something, I could miss out on her.
March, 1998
I cannot see enough. I released the light and everything, but I must be missing something. There has to be a way out. I need to find a way out. All I can hear are those screams and I can see her fear in my head and oh, my god I need to find a way out of here. I need to save her. I need to see her again and I need to see her seeing me again, so I need to find a way out. Finally, after what seems like hours of screaming and chaos, I get upstairs. She’s unconscious but I will make her okay. I will absolutely see to it that she is more than fine after this is over. My eyes have never moved so fast before; I’m looking everywhere for solutions. That’s probably why I saw the chandelier falling before anyone else did. I sprinted forward to grab her, feeling her warmth in my hands and still looking everywhere for a way to safety. Harry threw me the wand and we got out of there as soon as we could, and I vowed that for the rest of this journey, I will never take my eyes off her for more than absolutely necessary. I cannot bear to miss what may be her last glance. I can barely even handle the thought that this is a possibility. I did not see any of this coming. I don’t think any of us did. Blimey.
May, 1998
I barely caught a glimpse of her expression while she was running towards me, but for once, I don’t really think it was necessary for me to see what was on her mind. For the first time, she seems to have finally noticed how I watch; how I care, and there’s no questioning what her intentions are behind this kiss. Blissfully, I close my eyes and cling to her, never wanting to let go. Everything is spinning through my head, falling into place more clearly than it ever has, and the irony of it all is that my eyes are, well, closed. All this time watching and staring and glaring and studying, but it all comes down to a moment where feeling is what matters. Thinking back, that’s what it’s always been about. The feelings behind the gazes. The emotion behind the looking after. No matter what happens through the rest of this, no matter what my tired eyes must bear, this is what matters. This moment, this feeling and its promise of so many more to come, will make it all worth it.
You Don’t Use Your Eyes, Do You? by Hermione Jane
Story Notes:
Special thanks to my marvelous beta, Taryn. :)
Chapter Endnotes: Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!