Work Text:
“Let. Me. Go,” he said lowly, dangerously, his gaze darting from where she had grasped the sleeve of his robe to her face, the contempt and disdain she hadn’t seen carved around his mouth and eyes in years returning. “I have neither the intention nor the inclination to be your hero.”
Hermione’s hand fell. So did her heart. The signs of his care had been there, she was sure, until he chose to pretend otherwise.
Once, she would have recoiled at his words, ran off to soothe her hurt pride and nurse her wounds privately.
But Hermione wasn’t a schoolgirl any longer.
She forced her gaze up, meeting him as an equal. “I am my own hero. It’s nothing I lack, bravery, as you well know. I was looking for a partner. A companion. If that’s not something you’re inclined to be, then very well. But don’t act as if I need a saviour just because you’re either unwilling or incapable of maintaining meaningful connection.”