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There's something to be said about jealousy, the type that sets in your bones and rots your insides. The type to keep you up at night, tossing and turning, boiling with rage. It's sinful. Envy turns you green, a sickly color that contorts your aura. It takes over your mind, haunting your dreams and hangs over you in the waking hours like a poltergeist.
Hermione sits up in bed, puffing out an air of frustration. She's been trying to sleep, her incessant alarm clock ticking away, teasing her with each passing minute. She cannot afford to be exhausted in her classes tomorrow. She fears she's starting to fall behind, although on her count that's probably an exaggeration. Still, her heart hammers in her chest heavily and there's a lump in her throat that no amount of tea can settle.
Her first potions class of the year didn't go how she pictured it would, Harry completely blew her out of the water. Of course, impressing Professor Slughorn and raising himself ever higher on the pedestal Slughorn set him on. No matter, she has time. She can prove herself to the professor. She will.
She repeats that mantra to herself, over and over until her rapid pulse steadies. She hugs the covers closer to her chest, turning over and staring out of the moonlit window near her bedside. A soft wind blows through the trees, making its branches scrape against the glass pane. She watches the witch-like fingers tap the window, asking to be let in.
Eventually, sleep calls to her. It's restless. Her dreams cloudy and tumultuous, emotions rolling in like waves. Hitting the shore, eroding at the sand, never ceasing to give her a break.
── .✦
She clambers down the steps of the dormitories, stack of books cradled in her arms. Of course, she's slept through her alarm and even through the racquet of the girls getting ready for the day. She pushes past the groups of people clogging the common room, shoving her way through The Fat Lady and racing toward today's potions class.
When she gets there, everyone is already at their stations, stirring away at a bubbling mixture in a cauldron. Harry stands there, looking bright-eyed and bushy tailed. He probably got a fine night's sleep, she thinks passively, rolling her eyes and heading to her own cauldron.
"Ah, Miss Granger, glad you could make it! We were worried you would miss class today. It's a very interesting lesson." Slughorn calls her out, bringing his hands to his mouth pensively.
"My apologies, professor. Rough start this morning." She blushes as all eyes are cast on her.
"No matter! Education will come to those willing and ready to accept it." He nods, waving her toward her potions table.
Harry waves at her, a small gesture, mouth upturned into his silly half grin. As much as she wanted to be in a bad mood today, that never fails to make her smile. Ron smiles too, all toothy and lopsided. So, she waves back, pulling her hair back into a pony and getting to work.
Slughorn claps his hands together, "Today we shall be learning about a love potion," The class oohs and aahs, the group of girls in the back of the classroom leaning forward expectantly.
"Amortentia," Slughorn continues, "now - this will not create true love… more of an… infatuation. And, as always, it will wear off."
Love potion, Hermione rolls her eyes, how stupid to think that something like that… forcing someone to want you would work. Why would you want a person's affection if you knew it came from a source of your own bidding? No. No, she'd much rather have someone love her for who she is and choose to be with her because they want to.
Despite her distaste for this type of magic, she reads through her potions book dutifully and gathers the necessary ingredients. It's not like she would use it on anyone. She laughs to herself at the thought of it, staring into her cauldron as it boils.
"So!" Professor Slughorn announces, making Hermione jolt out of her academic stupor. "Most of you should be just about done." He pats his breast pocket, pulling his lips into a tight smile. He looks around the room, locking eyes with Hermione. "Miss Granger, please come forward." He motions her over with a wave of his hand, and she goes.
"Now, Amortentia has a unique aroma for every individual," Slughorn gestures to Hermione to smell her finished potion. She leans her nose near the bubbly concoction, wafting the fragrance towards herself.
"It smells like…" She inhales deeply, soaking in the myriad of scents. "Fire wood, old books, the earth as is crunches beneath your feet. It's… warm and comforting. Like a big hug." She finishes, opening her eyes - not realizing she ever closed them. She felt the room's eyes on her, Slughorn was struck silent. She peered up to face Harry - from across the room she swore she could see a hint of blush on his cheeks.
Maybe it was just from standing over his own steaming cauldron. Certainly not because of the way she described what her soulmate would smell like. If she were to trust her intuition, which she'd like to say she does, it would lead her straight to him.
Her stomach turns at the thought, a wave of emotions crashing over her in an instant, suffocating her. "Excuse me." She mutters, marching past the rest of the class with her head down and leaving the room.
Once she reaches the hallway, she lets out a breath. She makes a beeline up the stairs and out of the large double doors into a courtyard. Her body slides down a stone pillar and she finds herself seated, knees pulled to her chest and her head down in between her legs. She heaves in a bigger breath, willing the tears to go back into her eyes. Her shoulders shake with the effort to keep it all in. She's not even sure why she's crying.
She can feel the footsteps of passers by, their loafers tapping on the cobblestone. She's still hidden behind a pillar, waiting for everyone to go away.
Her head is still down, and through an opening in her crossed arms, she sees a pair of shoes hurry over. She lifts her head up, swiftly wiping away the remnants of any tears that might have slipped out and plastering on a smile.
But when she looks up, she sees it's Harry - Ron nowhere to be found. So, she lets her shoulders droop and her face fall. No need to put up an act for him. Her heart clenches at the very thought.
"Hermione, are you OK?" He kneels down to her level, placing a hand on her shoulder. His face is soft, eyebrows knit together in worry. His pouty lips are open, ragged breath leaving him from trotting over to see her. And he's close, really close. She looks back up into his eyes, big and round and welcoming.
She throws herself into him, and he falters backward from the force. Her arms wrap around him as she stuffs her face into the crook of his neck. A shaky breath leaves her as Harry hugs her back wordlessly. He squeezes her tight, not letting go until she does.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you." Hermione sniffles, pulling herself back. He stands, helping her up as well. "I had a bad night and … I was so nervous about Potions class today and just… everything." She sighs, throwing her hands up in surrender. A weight lifts off her chest from simply getting the words out. And with Harry at her side, she suddenly feels much better.
He rubs her back soothingly, putting a friendly arm around her as they walk through the castle to head to lunch.
She forgets about the smell of her love potion, she's obviously being ridiculous. Harry is important to her, in more ways than one, but there's no way it was love. At least not that kind of love.
── .✦
Ron called it a night a while ago, the other two still rooted to their seats in the library. Hermione demanded that Harry tell him how all of a sudden he's a potions master. She didn't want to doubt him, but him surpassing her in academics was hard for her to fathom.
"So, you're cheating." Hermione states matter-of-factly. He rolls his eyes at her, but she knows she's right. "You're using someone else's answers to your problems!" She snatches the book from his hands, thumbing through the marked up pages.
"It's not cheating," Harry emphasizes by grabbing the book back. "it's just… accelerated learning."
Hermione wants to smack his smug face, maybe even hit him across the head with said potions book, but instead she crosses her arms. "Right, so since you're sooo smart," another eye roll just to dig it in, "can you teach me what the all-knowing Half-Blood Prince knows?"
"I would be delighted to share his knowledge," Harry places a hand to his chest mockingly.
She guffaws, Harry seemingly becoming much more brash as the years go on. Now, he's always been sassy - but there's a certain air around him making him seem more confident. She wonders if all of this Chosen One business has gone to his head. Not to mention the amount of attention he's getting from Professor Slughorn.
"Oh, were you invited to that dinner with Slughorn?" Harry pipes up, turning his attention away from the book.
"The Slug Club." Hermione shivers at the name, the image of those slimy creatures crawling around a dinner table fills her mind. "What a foul sounding name." She straightens her shoulders, "But, yes I was invited thank you very much."
"I knew you'd get in." Harry's response surprises her, she looks at him dumbfounded.
"What?" Her head tilts, mouth open slightly as she tries to decipher Harry's face.
He's scanning her face as well, inquisitive eyes digging around looking for something. But his gaze is soft, endearing.
"I knew you would get invited - you're the brightest witch there is." He leans his cheek in his hand, elbow propped up on the table. His eyes are low, the flicker of nearby candles cast him in a warm glow. He's practically golden in this light.
Her skin bristles at the compliment, this was something she knew of course, but it coming from Harry - and so sincerely at that… it made her blush.
"You're not such a bad wizard yourself." She nudges him with her elbow playfully, and the go back and forth with one another until the librarian ushers them out in a fit of rage. They're still giggling as they leave the library, large wooden doors slamming shut behind them.
"Ah - I haven't laughed that hard in a while" Harry rubs his chest, evening out his breath.
"Me neither - and I needed it." Hermione sighs contentedly.
They meander through the halls, slowly making their way back to the common room. The portraits scattered across the walls eye the pair as they swing their clasped hands. The Fat Lady lets them in, they're positively giddy - whisper-yelling and trying to keep the laughing to a minimum as to not wake up any of their housemates.
They're stopped in their tracks at the sight of Ron on the common room sofa, looking glum with his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. His head jolts up at the sound of the door opening - and he sends a sneer toward the other two.
"Ron!" Hermione gasps, almost out of breath, "I thought you had gone to bed." They make their way over to the couch, but when they take a seat, Ron inches further from them.
"Yeah, I'm sure you did." He rolls his eyes, standing up defensively.
"What are you on about?" Harry bites back, unsure where Ron's sudden attitude is coming from. They weren't doing anything wrong - they had just come back from studying (something Ron abhorred anyways and left on his own accord.)
Ron holds up his hands, "Nothing… nothing at all," He runs his eyes between the two of them, "you lot are perfect for each other." With that, he heads up toward the beds.
Hermione is left speechless, hands fisting a pillow on the couch. She can feel hot tears start to brim in her eyes. What had she done to deserve to be treated like that? By hanging out with her best friend? What did Ron mean by perfect for each other?
"I think I should go to bed as well." Hermione sniffs, trying her best to keep the tears in, she doesn't know how much more crying she can take. It's starting to exhaust her.
"Probably for the best," Harry rubs her back as they both stand up. She responds with a gracious smile, though it's tight-lipped and doesn't fully reach her eyes. He wishes he could take away her pain, bottle it up and store it on a shelf to collect dust and never be seen again.
"Good night Harry." She says, before climbing the stairs to her own bed.
"Good night." His eyes don't leave her until the stone wall puts her out of sight.
He tries to dream of Hermione, bright and cheerful, everything she deserves. Instead all he can see are things that can never be, things he will never be able to give her.
── .✦
Breakfast is quiet, even Neville suspects something is off - though he doesn't say anything about it. He raises an eyebrow at Harry, but he shrugs it off. Just Ron being difficult and stubborn like always, he'll get over it eventually… whatever it is.
Hermione doesn't show up to the great hall, Harry hopes he'll see her in class so they can talk about Slughorn's dinner tonight. The thought of having her there with him settles the frog in his throat. He wonders what she'll wear… what will he wear? He's lost in his thoughts when a snap breaks him out.
"Harry? Hello? We've got to get to class." Seamus is waving a hand back and forth in front of his eyes.
"Right. Sorry." He gathers his things and hustles to Potions class.
Thankfully, Hermione is there. His chest heaves in relief at the sight of her untamable hair and pristine robes. Her face is hovering over her cauldron, she drops crushed herbs in and checks her notebook dutifully. Harry chuckles to himself, watching her toil over getting each ingredient perfect, each stir timed to a tee.
His "cheat sheet" as Hermione would call it burns a hole in the pocket of his robes. He pulls it out to sneak glances at the recipe notes jotted in the margins of each page: crush instead of chop, grind instead of mince, the list goes on. Why in the world is the textbook is incorrect in the first place and why do they keep making the students use it? Harry thinks to himself.
"Very good, Mr. Potter!" Professor Slughorn's voice rattles him as he sticks his nose into Harry's cauldron, inspecting his work. "Excellent… excellent." He says, mostly to himself, gliding away to check on the other students.
He can feel eyes on him, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He turns to face Hermione, who is glaring daggers at him and the book clutched in his hands. He shoves it back into his robe, giving her a weak smile, and going back to his potion work.
The rest of class goes on without much fuss, well save for Neville's cauldron boiling over and causing sticky, black liquid to flood his desk. He scrambles to clean it with the sleeves of his robes, but when those start to singe and burn due to whatever deadly acid he accidentally created, he screams in terror. The professor waved hid wand once, and cleaned the spill easily.
Harry chases after Hermione when they are dismissed, tugging at her sleeve before she can fully make it out the door. "Hey, wait a moment-"
Ron shoves past them, knocking Harry's shoulder and sending him into Hermione's arms. She flails, catching him halfway as he steadies himself back on his feet.
"He's becoming more irritating as the days go on." Harry states with a roll of his eyes. He and Hermione are practically nose to nose still, his breath fans across her face.
She nods, stepping back just so her hair isn't encasing the two of them. "What did you want to talk about?" Her eyes are light, glittering in the sun as it passes through the windows in the hall.
For a moment, he forgets. Her long eyelashes fluttering with each slow blink, the purse of her plush lips. Professor Slughorn brushes past and then he remembers.
"The dinner!" He spits out the words almost as if it's painful. "Tonight. Slughorn's… dinner." He finishes lamely.
"Yes… what about it?" A single eyebrow raises, her mouth twisted in a sly smile.
"Well - what are you wearing?" He mentally smacks himself on the head, what a stupid thing to ask. Hermione never cared about things like clothes and makeup. Why would it matter what she's wearing anyway? His nerves got the best of him this time.
"Oh! Er… nothing special…" Her eyes cast downward, shoes anxiously digging into the marble floors. She hugs her books tight to her chest, then looks back up to Harry. "It's not as splendid as the Christmas party you know."
He laughs, weight lifting off of his shoulders. He doesn't know what he was getting himself all worked up about.
"Right… the party. For some reason that slipped my mind." He scratches the back of his neck, feeling awfully childish about it all. "I'm just glad you'll be there tonight, I don't think I'll be able to get through it without you."
She smiles, beams, at that. It seems as though the rest of the world has warmed significantly with the radiance of that smile.
"See you tonight, Harry, and don't worry," She pats his shoulder playfully, "you'll be fine." She toddles off, muttering about having to cram some studying in before tonight.
After their conversation, Harry's heart feels a little lighter. His earlier reservations seem to have vanished. There's pep in his step as he heads back to the common rooms.
── .✦
The sun has set, darkness envelops the castle halls. Torches light the way down to Slughorn's office. Harry tugs at the collar of his button up, the fabric tight on his throat. He wipes his sweaty palms on the front of his pants, then reaches for the doorknob.
The small group chattering near a table stacked high with books turn to face him as he enters. Their stares burn and he does his best to seem nonchalant while searching the room for a mop of brown curls.
Before he can find her, Slughorn appears at his side, linking their arms together and leading him around his office.
"So glad you could make it Mr. Potter," Professor Slughorn's chest is proud as he parades him around the room, showing him photos with famous witches and wizards of yore. He pulls books from his shelves that old students have written, shows off relics encased in glass that were procured by his favorite students from over the years.
Harry is about to lose his mind when Slughorn starts to sift through old photos as Hermione walks in. His attention is drawn immediately, and he excuses himself from the professor.
The enchanted floating candles cast an angelic glow around her, her pink dress shimmering in the low lights. Her hair is not frizzy or bushy as it usually is - but instead tidied and drawn back with clips. Harry sort of misses the unruly mane.
However, it's undeniable that she looks devastatingly beautiful tonight. Harry notices Cormac's eyes light up with a boyish glee that causes Harry's stomach to turn. That scoundrel shouldn't go anywhere near Hermione.
He rushes to her side, pulling her into a hug and watching Cormac's eyes fall to the ground in disappointment. Point for Gryffindor he thinks to himself smugly.
"Hermione!" Harry has his hands on her shoulders, smile splitting his face. She giggles, his excitement contagious, and she's not used to seeing it as of late.
"Harry, we've just seen each other," She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "but you look quite nice." Her smile is small, shy.
"You look stunning." Harry spurts, removing his hands from her shoulders as he starts to feel them accumulate sweat.
A gorgeous shade of pink that matches her dress floods her cheeks, and she looks down at herself as if to remember what she put on.
"Stop it." But her smile deceives her words, the blush growing by the second. She pushes Harry lightly on the shoulder and they make their way to the table where Slughorn is tapping a glass to gain everyone's attention.
"Everyone! Please, take a seat. We will be eating soon." The professor sits at the head of their round table, the rest of the group settles in. Harry and Hermione next to each other, Cormac across from her. The professor waves his wand, and the silver goblets in front of them fill with plum colored liquid. The golden plates on the table fill with food, just as they do in the great hall.
Slughorn raises his glass, "Thank you everyone, for coming tonight. I appreciate each and every one of you." Though his eyes train specifically on Harry, he raises his glass higher. "Here here!" They chant in unison, clinking their goblets together and drinking.
Hermione chokes down the concoction and Harry tries not to laugh lest he risk spitting his drink out.
"What is that?" She whispers to him, wiping off drops of whatever the hell Slughorn gave them off of her lips.
"Not sure, and when it comes to him - you'll never know." Harry snickers and reaches a hand up to wipe off the liquid that threatens to drip further down Hermione's chin.
Her laughter stops abruptly, eyes following the movement of Harry's finger tips grazing her skin. He realises himself, pulling his hand away and profusely apologizing.
"Sorry - I … sorry." Is all he can say as he awkwardly wipes his hands on the napkin in his lap. He turns his attention to the food on his plate, pushing it around with a golden fork.
Hermione is lost in thought, gaze elsewhere as Cormac tries to catch her eye from across the table. She can feel it, burning a hole into her forehead, and it's starting to get irritating. She bites the bullet, moving her eyes to meet his. He looks almost surprised that she actually looked at him. His surprise turns quickly to suave, eyebrow lifting up slightly and eyes lowering. She's suddenly lost her appetite.
She pulls her wand from her bag, flicking it under the table and whispering a toenail growing charm. Suddenly, Cormac's smug face turns to one of horror. Hermione has to hide her laugh behind her hands as Cormac stand from the table muttering something along the lines of "feet, hurt, have to go" and hobbling out of the room.
Professor Slughorn looks disconcertingly at the door swinging from Cormac's abrupt departure. Harry is staring pointedly at Hermione, who makes sure she doesn't look back - because surely she'll start laughing so hard she'll also have to leave.
Harry's head is shaking disapprovingly, but his smirk is telling. "You're trouble." He whispers, knocking their shoulders together.
The rest of dinner goes off without a hitch, now that Cormac is gone and Professor Slughorn is sufficiently drunk. He can't even leave his chair to see them out of his office. Hermione covers him with a blanket and they exit as quietly as possible.
── .✦
"Well, that was… something." Harry puffs out a sort of laugh. Hermione's dress shines as they pass through the torches that line the halls. He follows close behind her, watching her hips sway while she walks.
She turns to him, her hair whipping around wildly, a chaotic gleam in her big brown eyes.
"I don't think I can go to sleep," she starts, inching closer to Harry and grabbing his hand. She drags him further down the corridor. "let's go for a walk." Still hand in hand, she leads him through the large double doors that bring them to the quad.
The chilly December air nips their noses, turning their cheeks bright red. Hermione wraps her arms around herself, goosebumps rising on her skin. Harry sees the shiver that wracks her small frame, immediately removing his suit jacket and wrapping around her.
She looks up at him from over her shoulder, they find themselves nose to nose again, the air between them is visible - hot breath mixing with the frigid atmosphere.
"Thank you." She speaks softly, gratefully accepting Harry's offer. He squeezes her shoulder, rubbing her arms to conjure some sort of warmth between the two of them.
"Well, I'm certainly wide awake now." Harry fears icicles will grow on his damp lashes, the tip of his nose burning with each cold breeze that passes through the quad.
They reach the fountain in the middle of the yard, sheets of thin sleet fall from the mouth of a dragon. It's not quite cold enough yet for it to be frozen, but it's certainly getting there. Hermione takes out her wand, and with a quick wave, conjures a fleece blanket and lays it across the cold stone at the base of the fountain.
"You and your wand… people are going to think Ron and I are rubbing off on you." Harry teases. They sit down close to one another… to conserve body heat of course.
"I think it's too late for that." She scoots ever closer to him, their shoulders brushing together. Harry's skin breaks out in goosebumps, but it's not from the weather.
The moon is full above their heads, Hermione's face glows in its light. Harry is awestruck by her beauty - natural and effortless. She has his rapt attention, going on about her most recent read. A book about the history of centaurs: their knowledge of the cosmos and divination. Most of it goes over Harry's head, but he listens attentively nonetheless.
In the middle of her spiel, he grabs his wand out of his robes and, without her noticing, conjures a set of floating candles to surround them.
She stops mid-sentence, mouth agape at the scene before her. Glowing candelabras cast soft, orange light along their bodies. The warmth of their flames can be felt on their cheeks, defrosting their frostbitten noses.
"Hermione," Harry clears his throat, bringing her attention back to him. "I'm sorry about… the potions book. I never meant to make you feel less than. You know you are leagues above me… above the entire school. Dare I say above the entire wizarding world."
Her blush is evident even in the low light. She tucks a strand of curly hair behind her ear. A nervous tic, he assumes. He keeps going, tumbling over words of praise to his best friend.
"You… you're my best friend and… and you mean so much to me." More than you realize, he wants to say, but he keeps that part to himself. He can't go ruining the friendship they've built over the years. Even so, it's not like Hermione even feels the same way about him. It's always been Ron. He would never want to tear them apart.
His heart aches a bit when he thinks about Ron, thinks about what the two of them are doing out here… alone… in the middle of the night. Anyone with half a brain would be suspicious of them. Of course this mess has Ron's head in a tizzy. He's only assuming the worst.
But then, a warm hand envelopes his own. His eyes dart down to where Hermione is locking their fingers together, turning his palm over to hold properly.
"Hermione wha-" The movement of his lips is stopped by her own crashing into him. He's thrown back slightly and catches himself with his hands landing hard on the stone beneath him. He doesn't kiss back at first, he's too busy trying to keep his eyes from bulging out of his skull. Hermione is kissing him, Hermione… him… kissing… they're kissing.
Fuck. He closes his eyes, breathing her in. He brings his icy hands up, cupping her warm cheeks. She shivers in his hold, leaning ever closer. He begins to kiss her back with fervor, moving their lips in tandem. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling herself onto his lap. It's an awfully scandalous sight, out in the open like this. However, the large clock overhead dings midnight, signaling that not a soul will be awake to find them.
Harry's hands travel down her back, grabby fingers wrinkling the silky fabric of her dress. He pulls away slightly, positively smug at the fact that Hermione chases his lips.
"You're beautiful." He says breathlessly, eyes searching her face, wondering if she's been charmed or if someone had slipped Amortentia in her drink tonight. Despite her blown pupils shining in the moonlight, she looks like herself. He smiles, wide and bright. Never in a million years did he ever think he would be here with her in his arms, her begging for his kiss. For him.
"What's gotten into you, Hermione Granger?" He rubs their noses together, trying to keep the air around them light. She laughs, and kisses him chastely, leaning back to catch her breath.
"Nothing! Nothing… I don't know how to explain it, but something in the universe shifted. I'm not sure when… but after everything we've been through… time and time again you are the one that's there for me." She's looking into his eyes, directly through to his soul. It's frightening, he's not sure what she'll find there.
"Hermione, I- I don't know what to say… what about-" But she cuts him off with a finger to his lips, clearly aware of where Harry is trying to go.
"I don't want to talk about that right now. Honestly, I don't want to talk about anything." She gives him a small smile, and he nods understandingly.
"We should probably be off to bed. If anyone, heaven's forbid Filch, finds us out here we will be in for it." Harry stands, placing his hand out for Hermione to take. She grabs it, and they walk hand in hand back into the castle.
The immediate relief of being inside the warmth of Hogwarts makes them both sigh. Harry puts an arm around Hermione's shoulder, pulling her in to his side. They meander back to the Gryffindor common room, ducking into shady corners when they hear footsteps.
They pass through the Fat Lady into the silent common room, save for the crackle of the dying fire in the hearth. Frost has built up on the high windows of Gryffindor tower.
"Good night, Hermione." Harry says, walking her all the way to the foot of the stairs that lead to the girls dorms. Their hands still slowly untangle until their fingertips barely touch. Suddenly, Harry pulls her back in for one more kiss. It's delicate, not as frantic as earlier. Harry gets a chance to realize just how soft Hermione's lips are and how good she smells.
She pushes him back slightly, giggling and whispering "Okay, okay good night for real this time." She lingers for a moment, blush high on her plump cheeks. He wants to kiss her again, wants to kiss her forever actually. Now that he's got a taste he's not sure he'll ever be able to get enough.
"Right. Good night, gorgeous." He watches her, still in his coat, climb up the stairs until she disappears through the door. He stays there for another moment, lost in the daydream of what happened tonight. He sighs dreamily, bounding off the stairs and practically dancing back to his own bed.
As his head falls on his pillow, he's met with saccharine thoughts of Hermione. He thinks, for the first time in a long time, that tonight he will have a sweet dream.