Chapter Text
“Double potions with the Slytherins?” Hermione heard Harry mutter under his breath, letting out a miserable sigh. “Perfect! Just what I needed!”
She stared at him with concern which had become a habit in recent weeks. After all recent events, this was how you’d see Harry—agitated and frustrated.
Except the times when the two of them were alone, if she was being honest.
“Let’s just get this over with, then we have two days off. We can get… um… some fresh air you know,” said Hermione softly, her hand resting on his back, attempting to distract his mind. “a bit of time just for ourselves… together…”
Harry’s eyes locked onto a corner where the fire in the fireplace roared.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, covering his face in both his hand, exhaling deeply. “I suppose…”
They then left the common room, stepping out into the corridors, heading for the dungeons. On their way from time to time, whispers followed them whenever a group of students passed by. Something that they had grown used to—well, she had, to be exact.
After a few minutes, they reached the dungeons. Through the door, Harry peered around the classroom. Snape wasn’t there yet.
“You go first,” said Harry, turning to face her.
“Why?” replied Hermione, frowning slightly.
“You very well know why…” Harry said miserably, lowering his head as he tucked his hands into his pockets.
There was no point trying to deny it. She did know. A quiet sigh escaped her as she stepped into the classroom—Harry following just behind her. One moment there was silence, and the next, whispers.
“Stinky Potter!”
“You’re a fake, Potter!”
“Look at our badges, Potter!”
“You stink, Potter!”
And with no surprise, the person heading the japes was none other than Malfoy.
“Why so shy, Potter?” he shouted with a laugh, sneering at the two of them before continuing. “Are you hiding behind her? Is the mudblood all you’ve got left? That’s low, even for you.”
Suddenly, all the recent conflicts played across Harry’s eyes like a movie. A massive wave of anger and hatred flowed through him—causing his heartbeat to rise and his hand reach for his wand.
“Shut your filthy mouth, Malfoy! If you dare speak about her like that once again, I’ll make sure your mouth stays shut forever!” he yelled, his voice shaking.
Suddenly Hermione’s hand had grabbed his, struggling to stop him.
“Harry, please! Please, just let it go…” pleaded Hermione, her voice trembling.
Harry didn’t listen. He was just about to free his hand when Snape entered the class. They both turned to face him. Harry’s eyes were narrowed in anger; Hermione’s were wide open, betraying her fear.
Snape’s cold eyes were set on them, the hatred burning within them.
“Potter! Granger! Get to your seats!” snapped Snape with his cold and lifeless voice.
Harry breathed heavily, preparing himself to yell at Snape. He didn’t care what would come next. All he wanted was to yell out his anger to empty himself… to let it all out.
Hermione, aware of what was going on in his mind, grabbed his hand and hurried toward the last table—their table. It really had become theirs. The last seats were usually her least favorite. However, with the recent events, and this class being potions, she kindly put Harry’s needs first.
The very moment they sat down, Snape began lecturing about antidotes and the potion they’d be brewing this session. After he was finished with his introduction, he wrote the necessary ingredients and the instructions on the blackboard, ordering them to start.
Hermione’s eyes were locked on Harry. He didn’t seem to have heard a single word of Snape’s speech, let alone learned anything. She couldn’t blame him. She could still see and also feel the anger bursting from him, tormenting him. However, she couldn’t let him get himself into trouble with Snape for not knowing what to do.
She picked up her notes and placed them in front of Harry—not just to help him with his potion, but also hoping that he’d look her way.
Harry looked down and picked up the parchment, taking a look at it. Turning around, he met her eyes, seeing the concern within them.
“Umm… Thanks,” said Harry awkwardly,
Hermione nodded but didn’t reply instantly. Her eyes were still fixed on him, struggling not to reveal every emotion.
“You okay, Harry?” she finally managed to say, her voice low.
Trying to cheer her up, Harry attempted to fake a small smile.
“I’m fine, Hermione,” whispered Harry, chewing his lower lip. “Don’t you worry…”
Hermione’s gaze remained on him, weighing her every word as a long pause followed.
“How do you expect me not to worry?” she whispered eventually, letting out a sigh.
Then, without another word, she turned her attention to her cauldron. As Harry remained still, looking at her, she lit the fire under her cauldron and prepared her ingredients. A few moments later, stealing a glance at Harry, she noticed he had started to do the same.
As they both went about preparing the ingredients, minutes passed without any further conversation. However, when Harry reached the step of counting his peas, he’d grown tired of silence. He stole a quick glance at Hermione who was already dropping her peas into her cauldron.
“You shouldn’t have stopped me…” Harry said quietly at last.
“And let you buy yourself a weekend detention? I don’t think so!” she replied firmly.
“It was worth it. Look how disgusting he is! Him and his puppets! And I’m not only talking about the badges. I’m talking about him calling you… well…” Harry answered, his voice dropping at the end. “You already know…”
Hermione was deeply moved by his words—that he cared about that despite everything else going on.
“And I’m really grateful for that, Harry, believe me,” she whispered kindly, offering a smile. “But it’s simply not worth it. Getting yourself into trouble because of them? You already have enough…”
She then saw a fade smile cross his lips. A smile she found as a sign of his gratitude. And she had to admit she truly liked it.
The next hour passed smoother than the first as Hermione helped Harry here and there, instructing him and correcting his occasional mistakes.
“Two times clockwise—once counter clockwise.”
“You should cut the turnips into fourths, not in halves.”
“Wait! Do not add its essence now. It needs a little more time.”
Whether it was because it was one of those ‘only the two of them’ moments or the silence of whispers, she could feel Harry’s anxiety had eased.
Near the end of class, the students had nothing to do except stir their potions. Therefore, whispers gradually began to rise from all around the classroom, and one particular part of the room’s voice rose above all others.
They turned around, only to find out that Malfoy had started his play with the badges, smirking at the two of them.
“Pathetic!” muttered Hermione, grabbing Harry’s shoulder, forcing him to turn around.
Still, the whispers didn’t stop. On the contrary, they seemed to grow louder by the minute.
Hermione, seemingly aware of how this was affecting Harry again, started whispering in his ear.
“Ignore them! Ignore them! Ignore them!”
“Ignore them, Harry!”
“Just ignore them, Harry!”
Harry did appreciate her efforts, but he couldn’t just ignore them. How much longer did he have to simply take hearing the whispers? How much longer did he have to stand everyone smirking at him? How much longer could Hermione successfully talk him down? How much longer would he have to withstand Ron being an absolute arse?
Thinking of Ron made his gaze drift toward his direction. He was sitting at a table with Dean and Seamus, laughing with them. Even the sight of him was annoying, let alone hearing his laughter.
Of all people, that git and Hermione were the two he was sure would actually believe him without question. And he wasn’t just sure, he had trusted that they would believe him. And where was that trust now? There Ron was laughing at his misery!
Suddenly, Ron shifted in his chair toward his side, facing Harry. Their eyes locked onto each other for a moment. As quickly as it began, Ron turned away, smirking at him.
And here they were here again—anger and hatred, flowing through him. All he did was stare at that table. For how long? He hadn’t noticed. The same way he didn’t notice Hermione staring at him all along.
“Harry?” Hermione broke the silence, nudging him. “Harry, look at me!”
Harry turned his head, looking at her. There was something familiar in her eyes. Hermione stared into his eyes for a few seconds before glancing toward Ron’s table for a moment.
Harry recognized the signs of her anger in that brief moment—all in her look. Her gaze then returned to Harry.
“Put out the fire… the cauldron,” she said, gesturing toward the cauldron. “Snape told us to deliver our samples. Time’s up,” she continued, pointing at her watch.
He was taken aback that he hadn’t noticed any of this. He nodded and did as she had instructed him, filling his sample vial. Then, under his breath, as if talking to himself, he murmured:
“I never thought one day I’d be alone at Hogwarts…”
Hermione didn’t say a thing. She just stared into his eyes for a few seconds. Harry let out a sigh as he picked up Hermione’s sample as well, and walked toward Snape’s desk—ignoring, and leaving Hermione with the emotions in her eyes. If there were signs of sadness in her expression before, there was far more in her eyes now.
After enduring yet another unpleasant look from Snape’s cold, lifeless eyes, he turned back to their table. Hermione had packed his bag as well as her own. She gave Harry his bag, then grabbed his hand.
“Come on!” she said, pulling him after herself. “Let’s go!”
She almost sprinted toward the door. Harry could sense the haste in her steps. Although taken aback by her sudden rush, he still followed her without question. A few minutes later, they were finally out of the dungeons and Hermione slowed her steps a bit.
Harry moved to walk beside her, their hands still clasped. He had a very good idea about why she did this, and he was thankful. She didn’t want Harry to face the smirks, the badges, and the students in general.
He had to thank her somehow. All he could think of was gently squeezing her hand—letting it speak instead of him. A moment later, he felt Hermione squeeze back, just as gentle.
Minutes passed as they continued their way in the castle, until Harry finally realized that they weren’t walking where they were supposed to go.
“Umm, Hermione?” called Harry, looking around.
“Yeah?” answered Hermione, taking a left at the same time.
“Are we going to the common room?” asked Harry in awe.
“We are,” replied Hermione casually.
The normalcy in her voice made him hesitate and doubt himself a moment.
“Um, it’s dinner time, you know… shouldn’t we head to the Great Hall?” asked Harry.
But Hermione didn’t answer, because they had already reached the portrait hole. One second they were standing in front of it, and the next she had spoken the password and they were inside.
Once they stepped inside, Hermione quickly glanced around the room. Other than some first- and second-years, they couldn’t see anyone else around—apparently everybody had gone to an early dinner. Hermione continued her way until she reached the spiral staircase, and gently let go of Harry’s hand.
“Go get the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder’s Map,” she whispered slowly. “I’ll wait here.”
Harry’s mouth fell open.
“Why?” he asked, his eyes fixed on her with surprise.
“Come on!” said Hermione quietly, gently pushing him toward the stairs. “We’ll be late!”
Harry didn’t move. He just stared at her in confusion—wanting to know the reason.
“Please… Just… Just trust me…” she pleaded, her eyes asking him to do the same.
There was something different about her voice. Not just her voice, but her eyes as well. Something that reached Harry’s heart. Something he couldn’t say no to.
“Okay,” he finally managed to murmur with a trace of sadness in his voice. “Who am I supposed to trust if not you?”
Hermione’s expression softened as her hands gently reached up for his glasses to straighten them.
“I’ll be waiting here then, okay?” she whispered as she let go of his glasses and took a step back.
Harry looked into her eyes longer than he meant to. It took him a few seconds to realize how awkward he must have looked.
“Right,” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “See you here then.” he added before turning around to walk upstairs.
When he reached his dormitory, he found it dead empty, standing at the entrance for a few seconds to catch his breath. He then went toward his four-poster bed, pulled out his trunk and opened it.
On top, he saw his most beloved birthday gift ever—the Broomstick Servicing Kit Hermione gave him last year. He didn’t quite understand why, but he stared at it for almost an entire minute, checking every part of it before starting to search for his cloak and map.
A minute later, with the Marauder’s Map tucked deep into his pocket, and the Invisibility Cloak in his hand, he went back downstairs to find Hermione. He saw her standing exactly where he’d left her, her arms folded across her front.
She watched him as he approached her. When he finally stopped right in front of her, he held out the Cloak.
“Here you go,” he said. “I’ve got the Map as well.” he added, tapping on his pocket a few times.
She nodded with a smile and gently reached for his hand, her fingers curling around his. Somehow the gesture had become so lovely and natural that he couldn’t even think of pulling away.
“Let’s go…” she whispered, her voice soft and kind.
Then, she started walking toward the portrait hole, her pace slow as Harry followed.
Together, they stepped out of the portrait hole and continued their way in the school. This time however, her steps were slow, gentle, and comfortable. But it didn’t stop the sound of their steps echoing and reaching their ears as they walked under the ceiling of the ancient castle.
The corridors and classrooms were all empty except for one person. Their only encounter was Peeves on the second floor. But despite his chaotic nature, he neither threw things at them, nor insulted them. In fact, she was surprised to see that Peeves could occasionally behave better than some students.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” he shouted, laughing at them. “Taking a private walk, are we?”
Neither of them said anything in return. Peeves definitely wasn’t someone she would ordinarily bother herself to take seriously, let alone respond to. However, there was something different about what he said this time. Somehow his words were stuck in her head.
They were taking a little walk, and whatever it was, it certainly felt lovely. It even looked like a date…
She couldn’t resist the thought the moment it arrived. And the moment it did, a great amount of heat bloomed in her ears.
Come off it!
She had to chuckle at her own thoughts. But the chuckle brought a thread of sadness. No denying that, she very well knew this wasn’t a date of any sort.
They continued their way until they reached the Great Hall. However, she didn’t even stop to have a look inside. Instead, she continued her way toward the Entrance Hall. Harry could sense that her steps became faster at this moment, as if she didn’t want Harry to be near the place, and more importantly, the crowd.
Leaving the Entrance Hall, they stepped out onto the grounds. The dying sun hung over the horizon, beginning to hide behind the mountains. A soft wind brushed against their faces as birds sang on the rooftops—creating a symphony worthy of hearing. Even her steps had become slow and calm again.
They continued walking as they witnessed the enjoyed the peace around them. After a few minutes, Harry could see that Hermione was leading them toward the edge of the forest.
“Um… Hermione?” he asked, unable to stop himself.
“Yes?” Hermione replied briefly.
“Where are we heading?” he asked, looking sideways at her.
“To Hagrid’s of course,” she answered, short and simple, rolling her eyes.
“Oh, has he invited us?” said Harry, looking puzzled. “I don’t remember us planning to go there.”
“Nope,” answered Hermione, looking sideways at him as a meaningful smile crossed her lips. “Can’t we just pay him a random visit?”
“Well,” said Harry, unable to think of anything else to say. “I guess we can.”
After several minutes of strolling, they finally reached Hagrid’s hut. Stopping in front of the door for a few seconds, they waited for their breaths to slow down a bit. Then, Hermione knocked on the door a few times.
“Hagrid?” shouted Hermione. “Hagrid, open up!”
One moment of silence, and then Fang’s excited barking rose from inside. Moments later, Hagrid’s heavy footsteps could be heard coming closer—each step making the old, wooden floor creak and complain.
When he opened the door, his face showed a pleasantly surprised shock.
“Hello!” said Hermione with a smile, waving at him.
“Now this is a surprise! Shouldn’t yeh two be at dinner, eh?” replied Hagrid, smiling at them.
“Well… Umm…” stammered Hermione, exchanging a quick look with Harry before glancing back at Hagrid. “Can we come in?”
“’Course you can!” replied Hagrid, fully opening the door, then stepping aside. “I just put some tea on.”
“Thanks!” said Hermione.
They stepped inside together as Harry waved at Hagrid, and Hermione led the way to the table. The moment they settled in, Fang sprinted toward Harry, his tail wagging happily, to place his head on Harry’s lap. Harry started scratching him behind the ears as Hagrid joined them, bringing them three cups of tea and a plate full of cakes.
Sitting on his chair in front of them, Hagrid pointed at the cakes, and cleared his throat.
“New recipe,” he said with an uncertain voice, looking at the cakes like they were some untrustworthy strangers. “Dunno how they’ll all taste…”
Harry and Hermione glanced at each other. After quite some time, they both began laughing—actually laughing. They both had enough experience with Hagrid’s cooking. However, these new cakes at least looked better than the old kind. So, out of curiosity, they both picked up a piece of cake with their tea.
Harry took a bite of his cake, and to his great surprise, it wasn’t as hard as a stone. In fact, when he actually swallowed it with a sip of his tea, he experienced a whole new level of taste. He couldn’t believe it. It was like a new world!
He turned to look at Hermione’s face, only to find out that she was in awe as much as he was.
“Hagrid!” said Hermione excitedly, picking up another piece. “This is perfect!”
“Is it?” replied Hagrid, certainly pleased. “Lemme see!”
He then picked up a piece with his tea, eating it with closed eyes.
“I dunno,” he gave a shrug when he was finished. “I reckon the old ones were better, don’t you?”
Hermione stared at him with her eyes wide open, her mouth opening then closing for multiple times. Thanks to Hagrid, her joy and high spirit of finally having proper meal at Hagrid’s lasted less than thirty seconds.
Not wanting to crush Hagrid’s favoritism for the old recipe, Hermione let out a dispaointed sigh.
“Yeah,” she said, biting her lower lip. “Probably for you…”
Hagrid’s gaze then moved from Hermione to Harry, and then back to Hermione again.
“So, what brings yeh two here?” Hagrid asked with a raised eyebrow. “Why didn’t yeh go to the dinner?”
Hermione glanced at Harry for a moment. Then, with an obvious hesitation, and a visible doubt in her eyes, she looked back at Hagrid.
“Well,” stammered Hermione, twirling her curly hair unintentionally. “You know…”
“Yeah?” said Hagrid slowly, leaning in closer.
Hermione looked down a moment, taking a deep breath. Then, in a lower voice, she continued:
“I thought maybe Harry could use a bit of time away from the castle.”
“Did yeh now?” said Hagrid, sounding surprised. “Why?”
Hermione couldn't manage an answer answer. She kept her gaze down at her hands clasped together on the table. Frowning a bit, Hagrid turned his look toward Harry.
“Wanna share why, Harry?” he asked calmly, but seriously still.
Harry’s gaze shifted toward Hermione, then back to Hagrid. He didn’t quite know how to feel about Hermione bringing him here for this. Usually on visits like this, he didn’t like the idea. However this time, deep down, he couldn’t be angry about it.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to say aloud all the things in his head, or even if he could to be honest. But the kindness and warmth of Hagrid’s face helped him open up. Eventually, he whispered what he came up with as an answer.
“No one sees me the way I actually am,” he whispered slowly, quietly letting out a sigh. “Not now at least.”
“What do yeh mean?” Hagrid asked softly.
“More than half the school thinks I’m a cheater! And that’s the kindest way they express themselves. Like I wanted all this to happen!” he said as his voice trailed off.
“Gryffindors on the other hand, think of me as some sort of hero—and that’s neither what I am nor what I want to be!” he folded his arms together as he went on. “Especially when others call me a stinky charlatan…”
“Is that all, Harry?” Hagrid asked kindly, sliding the cake plate closer to him.
Harry looked at the cakes for a second, but didn’t pick any. He then gave a small shrug and looked at Hagrid with an unrecognizable expression.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I guess…”
Hermione let out a quiet sigh and reached for his hands, holding them both between hers.
“You know that’s not all,” she whispered, stroking the top of his hands with her thumbs. “And you know you’ll eventually resolve things with…”
“No!” Harry interrupted angrily, his voice rising higher than he meant to.
He closed his eyes shut. He didn’t even want to talk about it—and his outburst seemed to have declared that.
Hermione let out yet another sigh—but still, she held his hands and continued to gently stroke them.
“What is it, Hermione?” asked Hagrid, picking his look away from Harry and placing his gaze on her instead.
“Ron… well… Ron’s like others,” stammered Hermione nervously, her voice low. “He thinks Harry entered the tournament himself.”
She paused for several seconds, as if there was something blocking her throat. Then, slowly, with a choked voice, she whispered:
“And Harry thinks he’s alone…”
“Oh,” Hagrid breathed slowly with a visible thread of sadness in his voice. "Is that right, Harry?"
Harry nodded slowly, his eyes still closed. He had no interest in talking or hearing about Ron.
But he couldn’t deny his heart when it melted at hearing Hermione’s choked up voice. It was so much—so heavy…
He didn’t know why, but somehow, to hear her choked voice, to hear the way she said ’he’s alone’, the way she still held and stroke his hands, all felt more painful than any of the recent events.
There was silence for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, Harry heard Hagrid’s gentle voice.
“Look at me, Harry,” Hagrid sighed, shifting in his chair.
Harry opened his eyes slowly, raising his head just enough to look at him at the same time.
“Yeh can’t stop people talking, Harry. If anyone, and fer any reason, doesn’t want to see the truth, yer efforts to make ‘em will be useless,” he said, looking straight into Harry’s eyes. “And trust me, all yeh’ll do is hurt yerself…”
He paused for a second to glance breifly at Hermione.
“Not to mention that yeh’ll hurt yer friend as well,” whispered Hagrid, pointing at Hermione.
Harry stared at Hagrid for a moment. Then slowly, his gaze changed direction toward Hermione. His eyes met hers, and for the first time today, he actually saw them. He saw her warm brown eyes, filled with concern, kindness—and perhaps, love…
Now, his heart wasn’t just broken. It was now full of shame and guilt—both haunting his soul. He couldn’t look at her anymore; not at the emotions her eyes reflected.
“I… I…” stammered Harry, having absolutely no idea what to say.
However, Hermione suddenly came to his rescue by throwing herself into his arms, holding him tightly.
“You stubborn, silly boy…” she cried out, pressing Harry’s chest to hers.
Harry’s hands closed behind her back without meaning to, pressing her closer. For an entire minute, he continued to feel her heartbeat slow down as time passed, just like his own. And after a long while, a feeling finally returned. A feeling he hadn’t felt for weeks. The feeling of finally being home…
After they gently let go of each other, Harry looked into her eyes. They glistened with unshed tears, yet her lips were forming a smile. Harry tried to smile in return, knowing she deserved it.
She deserved much more than that…
His eyes then moved from her to Hagrid. He seemed simply happy, a warm smile on his face, taking a sip of his tea.
“Eventually the whole school is gonna find out that yeh’re right Harry—including Ron…” said Hagrid, giving Harry a meaningful look.
Harry nodded as he tried to keep his expression unchanged, but didn’t say a word. He deeply wished they would realize that he neither wanted to talk about Ron nor hear about him.
“But even if they don’t, yeh must never think that yeh’re alone,” continued Hagrid, his eyes moving from Harry to Hermione. “Yeh never have been…” he softly added.
Harry turned to look at Hermione, but she didn’t look back. Instead, she was looking down at her legs, trying to hide her wet cheeks from their sight. Understanding and giving her the space, he turned to face Hagrid again and gave a small nod. He couldn’t even manage a single word… not now.
Hagrid, seemingly aware of that, winked at them with a grin on his face.
“Well, now that yeh two have missed the dinner, yeh must be hungry,” he said. “Wanna stay here fer the dinner, eh?”
His question made Harry and Hermione finally gather what it took to look at each other. Their eyes stared at each other for a moment. There was no need for words—their eyes spoke what they couldn’t say aloud.
Hermione looked at Hagrid, and nodded in agreement.
“Of course we will…” she answered in calm yet cracked voice.
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, his low voice. “Thank you, Hagrid.”
“It’s settled then. Lemme see what I can bring us…” said Hagrid, clapping his hands together.
“I’ll help you,” said Hermione, preparing to stand up.
But suddenly, Harry’s hand grabbed her arm tightly. She froze where she stood, her eyes moving back to look at Harry. Their eyes met for only a second or two before he tore his gaze away from her, staring down at the table. However, that short time was enough for Hermione to understand him. She didn’t even need to hear him muttering, “Please stay…” under his breath.
Hagrid, pretending like nothing happened, just rose from his chair, moving toward the kitchen.
“Don’t bother yerself, Hermione. I’ll be back in no time…” said Hagrid with his back to them.
Hermione nodded to him and slowly sat next to Harry—yet Harry didn’t look at her. He had his head down, staring at the wooden table and the remnants of uneaten cakes and empty cups.
No matter how hard he tried to hide it, she very well knew he was deep in thought. Maybe even ashamed of what he had done. But she didn’t care. She loved the way he reached for her arm and clung to it, asking her to stay with him without words. It not only gave her a warm and pleasing feeling inside, but an excuse to be at his side again—to reach for his hand and hold it.
While Hermione held his hand, Harry’s thoughts traveled to his dormitory and the Broomstick Servicing Kit on top of his trunk—the best birthday gift of his life.
‘Why?’ he had to ask himself.
‘Perhaps because it gives you an excuse to think about her.’ an embarrassed voice called inside him.
He had been blind not to see it before. It showed how well she knew his interests. Not just knew, but valued them as well. She had given him such a magnificent gift despite her lack of interest in Quidditch. And what taste she had! Something so useful, and of such high quality! As if she were a professional player herself who knew what would suit the gear best.
But that gift was also a reminder of painful memories. It was a reminder of his stupid behavior when the Firebolt arrived, and she only had his safety in mind. He had behaved the way he did—unworthy of her kindness. It didn’t matter that the ordeal was now settled between them and he had apologized. She always said it was in the past and that she doesn’t blame him in the slightest when she had her own mistakes as well. Still, the shame and guilt found their way into his chest from time to time.
Eventually, Harry turned to face Hermione once again, looking deep into her eyes.
“Come here,” he whispered, his voice trembling.
Unable to stop himself, he pulled on both her hands to bring her close into his arms. He held her tighter than the last hug and she didn’t resist. Her hands moved behind his back and locked together as he rested his head on her shoulder.
He felt he could cry aloud at this moment. He was sure she would understand him as she always did. After all that had happened in the recent weeks, all the painful moments in the castle, he felt she was the only shelter he could find. But there was also his pride he couldn’t risk. He couldn’t imagine doing it in front of her. He couldn’t let her be the first person to see him cry when no one had ever seen him cry before.
Darkness was the only thing in front of Hermione’s eyes. One part of her felt sad at how fragile Harry—this boy whose strength in trying times had always inspired her—had become. In his uneven breaths, she could feel the storms of emotion raging inside him. On the other hand, another part of her couldn’t help but relish the moment. Feeling the warmth of Harry’s body against her own was always pleasing to her. No surprise she was always in search of an excuse just to hug him even for a brief moment.
But this hug in particular felt different. It gave her a different sort of pleasure, and she knew the reason. It was always her throwing herself into his arms, searching for those moments. This time however, he was the one who stepped up for the embrace. And he had done it without the slightest sign of pulling away or regret.
And how could she say no to him with that in mind? How could she say no to this beautiful moment?
Her curls brushed over his face, and the warmth of her breaths brought his soul back to life. He could hear his heartbeat syncing with hers—a beautiful symphony in full harmony.
They could have stayed like that, in each other’s embrace, likely forever. But only few minutes later, Hagrid’s footsteps came closer from the kitchen.
As her hands loosened behind his back, they slowly and gently let go of each other, a blush forming on both their cheeks. Harry didn’t look into her eyes after that, coming to realize what he had just done.
Hermione, who knew Harry must be feeling embarrassed, tried to prove him he needn’t be. That she had genuinely loved it and there was no reason whatsoever for him to feel ashamed about it.
“Cheer up, Harry!” she grinned, nudging him. “Dinner!”
Harry looked up, staring at her in amazement for a second before a grin formed on his face as well.
“Right,” he said, unable to stop laughing. “Dinner it is.”
They watched as Hagrid approached, bringing sandwiches for their dinner. And to their surprise, they noticed that even the sandwiches looked better and more delicious tonight! They only needed less than a minute to discover that just like the cakes, the sandwiches were otherworldly.
“Hagrid!” said Hermione happily after swallowing a bit of her sandwich. “You’ve outdone yourself today!”
“What are these?” said Harry, checking the ingredients inside the bun with curiosity. “Whatever they are, they are delicious. Please keep them this way!”
“I guess we can try, ey?” said Hagrid happily before he froze for a moment. “Merlin! I forgot the drinks! Wait here,” he slapped his forehead.
“Oh, for God’s sake Hagrid!” snapped Hermione. “Don’t you want to change your habits? How many times shall I tell you?”
“Tell me what?” said Hagrid, trying to sound innocent.
“That YOU can do with a bit of juice instead of… whatever alcohol it is you call drinks!” said Hermione loudly.
Harry laughed and Hagrid looked ashamed.
“Alright,” said Hagrid sadly. “You won,”
“I’m sorry, truly,” said Hermione kindly, leaving Harry staring at her—amazed at how easily she could turn from gentle and kind to firm and back again. “But believe me, I’m only concerned about your own health.”
“Yeah, I know… yeh’re right,” said Hagrid softly, shaking his head. “I can go teh far sometimes…”
“Welcome to my world, Hagrid!” said Harry, winking at him. “You’ll get used to it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Hermione, raising an eyebrow.
“Nothing,” chuckled Harry, turning around to check on Fang only to escape her eyes. “You can be frightening sometimes, you know.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” said Hermione, rolling her eyes.
“It is a compliment, Hermione,” said Hagrid, laughing at them. “Harry means nothing by it.”
“I know it, Hagrid.” she responded kindly. “He can’t mean anything even if he wants it.”
“Oh, you sure?” Harry asked, frowning a bit.
“Yes, I certainly am.” she chuckled, patting Hagrid on the back a few times before returning to her sandwich.
They didn’t realize how hungry they were until they started to eat, continuing to eat in silence. The only sound to break it was Fang barking from time to time, begging for a bit of sandwich—as if he, like them, had realized that these were especially delicious.
When they had finished, Hagrid talked a bit about the Skrewts, which wasn’t particularly a fascinating subject to either of them. After that, they prepared to leave, putting on their cloaks as Harry picked up the Invisibility Cloak, Hagrid coming to the door to see them off.
“Have each other’s backs, yeh two, okay?” said Hagrid, stroking Fang’s head.
Harry felt a heaviness spawn in his chest again. There was the shame again, finding its way into his heart. He expected a reply from himself, but there was nothing he could say. However, Hermione’s reply came to his rescue.
“Thanks for the dinner, Hagrid!” said Hermione, giving Hagrid a hug.
Hagrid smiled and opened the door for them. When the door opened, that welcoming wind came to brush against their faces once again. The sky had gone completely dark now—only to be lit by the full moon, the stars, and the castle’s window lights.
It was a clear night with only a few faint shapes of clouds visible, leaving the stars free to shine brightly overhead. They turned to wave at Hagrid as they stepped outside, Fang wagging his tail to say goodbye and Hagrid waving back at them.
When Hagrid closed the door, Hermione slowly took Harry’s hand and whispered:
“Let’s go…”
Harry felt the warmth of her fingers curling around his, and Harry deeply wanted to believe their warmth was the reason of his cheeks feeling suddenly hot.
“Hermione?” Harry called out softly, stopping Hermione who had only taken a few steps forward.
Hermione stopped and turned around, looking at him with her eager eyes.
“Yes?” she replied, almost whispering.
Harry’s gaze dropped to his shoes, unable to look directly into her eyes.
“I just… I just wanted to say thanks,” stammered Harry. “Your idea to visit… it was needed.”
Hermione gently squeezed his hand in return, tilting her head toward her shoulder with a smile.
“Anytime, Harry…” whispered Hermione.
They stared at each other for a few seconds before Hermione finally noticed the awkwardness. She glanced down at Harry’s hands, seeing the Invisibility Cloak folded in them.
“Umm… I think we might want to leave it here, next to Hagrid’s door,” she said, pointing at the Cloak. “He has his chest there and never locks it, remember? We’ll come back for it later.”
It was an unusual request from Hermione. Usually, she was the one who valued the Cloak as much as he did, if not more. She was often the one reminding him to keep it safe at all times, so the request was rather surprising.
He was just about to ask her the reason when he heard those words again.
“Trust me…” whispered Hermione, seemingly aware of his confusion.
“Okay,” he whispered back a few moments later, nodding at her.
And trust her he did, walking slowly toward the hut’s door, placing the Cloak inside the unlocked chest.
When he came back, she went to take his hand and continue their walk. However, she suddenly felt that something was missing… Something necessary…
After a few seconds of thinking, the missing thing became apparent. We need a light…
She reached out for her wand, and with a slow flick of it, she conjured a flowing blue flame. The flame hovered above their heads and lit a small circle around them. She looked up at it for a few seconds, then noticed that Harry was staring at it as well.
“I would’ve asked you to teach me how to do this, but…” he said quietly, taking a deep breath. “But honestly, I like them more when you conjure them—makes them special, you know…” he continued in an even lower voice.
His gaze stayed on the flame, but hers was fixed on him. He probably didn’t even realize it, but it was so thoughtful, and so quietly charming, that she had no idea how to respond.
“That means a lot to me,” she finally managed to whisper. “I would still like to teach you though…” she added after a few seconds.
“I know,” he said in return, his gaze turning back to her. “But they’re special, just like you…”
“Oh,” she whispered almost to herself, blushing softly under his gaze. “Thanks…”
It was just so lovely… His kind words… His rarely used words…
Softly, gently, Hermione took his hand again—not forcing anything, but rather asking. Asking him to join her for another walk…
He had no reason to say no—not to another walk, and certainly not to her…
Her gaze moved from his face to their hands, lit by the blue glow of the flame as their fingers remained intertwined. And then from their hands to the sky—to the stars.
Her gaze remained on the sky for an entire minute, exploring the darkness filled with countless shiny little dots—all flickering beautifully among the few clouds drifting above.
It was poetic. Even the stars seemed to want to guide them on their way…