Year 1: The Rivalry Begins
Harry Potter didn’t care much for academics.
Not at first, at least.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t intelligent—he was, very much so. But there were far more interesting things in life than textbooks. Like Quidditch, for one. He had barely been at Hogwarts for a few weeks before he became the youngest Seeker in a century, and the rush of flying—of being the best—was addicting.
And yet, despite his natural talent, there was one person at Hogwarts who outshone even him.
Hermione Granger.
A Muggle-born. A Ravenclaw. A know-it-all who sat at the front of every class, waving her hand like her life depended on it.
Harry would’ve ignored her entirely if she hadn’t made the grave mistake of correcting him in front of an entire Potions class.
“That’s not how you stir it, Potter,” she had said, her tone clipped. “You need to go counterclockwise for the full reaction to take effect.”
It was the first time someone had spoken to him like that. Not with admiration, not with awe—just sheer, unfiltered annoyance.
And something about it infuriated him.
So he did the most rational thing possible.
He made it his mission to beat her at something.
Anything.
But Hermione Granger was a machine. She devoured books, aced every test, and made sure everyone knew she was the best. Even worse—she never acknowledged their rivalry.
And that, more than anything, pissed him off.
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Year 2: The Tension Builds
Hermione hadn’t expected Harry Potter to be so… diligent.
At first, she thought he was just another arrogant Quidditch star, too lazy to bother with studies. But then he started actually competing with her. His essays became sharper. His spells became stronger. And worst of all? He was good at it.
Too good.
It made her hate him.
Not in a true, deep-seated way, of course. But in a why is this Quidditch-obsessed, fame-ridden boy trying to take my place sort of way.
And the worst part?
She started to respect him for it.
She would never say it out loud, though.
Which is why, when she heard him scoff during her solo at the Yule Celebration, she made sure to glare at him the entire time she sang.
Harry, for his part, begrudgingly admitted—she had talent.
Not that he’d ever let her know.
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Year 3: The Pranks & The Sparks
It had become routine by now.
Harry would poke at Hermione. Hermione would fire back.
And every time she thought they had reached a ceasefire, he would escalate.
Like the time he charmed her books to float just out of reach. Or when he purposely “forgot” to mention he’d saved her a seat in class, only to watch her scramble for another.
It was childish, ridiculous—and infuriatingly fun.
And Hermione, despite herself, enjoyed it.
It wasn’t until one day in the hallway that everything changed.
Draco Malfoy sneered at her, the insult sharp and cruel. “Mudblood.”
The word had barely left his mouth before Harry’s fist connected with his face.
The hallway went silent.
Hermione stared, heart pounding, as Malfoy crumpled to the ground. Harry stood over him, shaking out his hand, as if punching people was a normal part of his day.
"I don’t need you to defend me, Potter," she snapped, crossing her arms.
Harry only smirked. "Too bad, Granger."
And just like that, her heart betrayed her.
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Year 4: The Chase Begins
Something shifted.
It wasn’t obvious at first. Just subtle glances, lingering touches—moments that lasted too long.
And then, Harry started chasing her.
It wasn’t direct. No, that would be too easy. Instead, it was in the way he’d find excuses to study next to her. The way he’d carry her books without asking. The way he knew she hated sweets but always offered her chocolates anyway, just to hear her exasperated sigh.
It was infuriating.
And then one night, he cornered her after Charms.
“This isn’t a bet, Granger,” he said softly, his voice lower than usual.
She scoffed, stepping back. “Oh, please. You just can’t stand that I’m better than you.”
His eyes gleamed. “I think you’re scared.”
And that was the moment she knew she was in trouble.
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Year 5: The Denial Phase
Harry Potter was insufferable.
She told herself that every time she caught him staring. Every time he ignored her when she pushed him away.
But when he suddenly stopped?
When he withdrew, no longer smirking, no longer teasing—she noticed.
She noticed too much.
And when she saw him laughing with some Slytherin girl in the Great Hall, her stomach twisted in a way she didn’t want to name.
She didn’t care.
She didn’t.
So why did it feel like something was missing?
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Year 6: The Almost
Harry had given up on words.
Instead, he just showed up.
He brought her tea when she studied late. He waited outside the library when she forgot to eat. He listened—really listened—when she talked about her music.
And one night, when the tension was thick enough to cut, he leaned in.
She pulled away. “Don’t you dare, Potter.”
He only smirked.
She wasn’t ready yet.
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Year 7: The Final Chase
It was the last month before exams.
The last month before they left Hogwarts forever.
And Hermione had fallen sick.
Harry had been the one to take care of her, bringing her soup, forcing her to rest. He sat beside her bed, listening to her half-delirious ramblings.
And then—
“Alright, Potter,” she murmured sleepily. “You win.”
His heart stopped.
She cracked one eye open, her cheeks flushed with fever. “One date,” she muttered. “Just one.”
And Harry Potter?
He grinned.
“That’s all I need.”
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Epilogue: Eight Years Later
Hermione Granger never stood a chance against him.
Because Harry Potter always got what he wanted.
The End.