This came out of a misunderstanding where a friend tried to tell me they liked HermioneRon and HarryCho, and ended up chopping out the middle two. Hermione thinks she's going crazy. She's not a Lesbian skirt chaser, she's not.

How no one ever caught a glimpse of the selfimportant, immature little boy who sat beneath the black floppy hair, she could never fathom. Why she liked him nonetheless was a greater mystery.

From the ashes of Sirius' Death...

More then ever, though, she wishes for him. The boy who has those eyes, enchanting and all consuming, and that mouth that never leaves its twist of a smirk. She wishes he would make her believe.

Lily is in the common room, minding her own business. James has other ideas. Outsert from my upcoming story.

Just a bit of stupidity, curtesy of my head. It's funny, and short, please read it. Think about the song Jingle Bells (duh!) and the Marauders, and this is what you'll get, as long as its two in the morning.