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“Accio Dictionary!”
The heavy book soared out of Hermione’s hand, flew across the room, and Harry caught it.
“Harry, I really think you’ve got it!” said Hermione delightedly.
“Just as long as it works tomorrow,” Harry said. “The Firebolt’s going to be much farther away than the stuff in here, it’s going to be in the castle, and I’m going to be out there on the grounds…”
“That doesn’t matter,” said Hermione firmly. “Just as long as you are concentrating really, really hard on it, it’ll come. Harry, we’d better get some sleep… you’re going to need it.”
Harry fell silent as his gaze dropped to his shoes, staring at them without any real reason—his eyes tracing the crisscross patterns of his shoelaces.
“Harry?” Hermione leaned forward slightly, tilting her head to look up at Harry’s bowed head. “What is it?”
He looked up and shrugged, trying to appear unaffected—though a nasty feeling told him he was only making it worse.
“Hey,” Hermione murmured kindly, nudging him softly. “You know you can tell me, right?”
“I know. It’s just… I dunno… I think I need more practice than sleep.” Harry played with his wand to distract his eyes from looking at her.
“But you’ve done exceptionally well,” she said, her voice soft. “I’m certain you can do it.”
Harry shook his head once before meeting her eyes with a bitter smile.
“I know you are, and I’m grateful. But honestly, I’m simply not like you, Hermione.” Harry sighed.
“What is that supposed to mean?” asked Hermione with a raised eyebrow.
“It simply means that you are way more talented than me.” Harry said quietly, looking at her.
Hermione’s gaze dropped, and a rather noticeable blush warmed her cheeks. She bit her lip, as if she was holding back a reply.
He managed a brief chuckle. That was almost a compliment. But the chuckle faded as quickly as it came, swallowed by the nervousness tightening in his chest.
“Don’t ignore me, Hermione.” Harry’s voice tinged with sadness. “It’s not like that,” he sighed. “I’m proud to have someone as talented as you as my best friend, but…”
He paused. For a second, he saw Hermione swallow hard the moment he pronounced the word best friend.
The corner of his mouth lifted faintly as he unconsciously regarded her with an indistinct affection.
“But… we have to be realistic.” He breathed heavily then continued. “You’re so much more talented and still you practice new charms for weeks, claiming you haven’t mastered it yet. I’ve only been at this for… how long? Two days?” He chuckled nervously. “It’s a miracle I’ve gotten even this far—thanks to you, that is…”
“Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if I make a fool of myself tomorrow…” his words trailed off, ending in a heavy sigh.
Hermione’s gaze finally found him once again, though her expression had changed entirely.
Now a deep, attentive concern filled her brown eyes—eyes that were locked directly on his, and a single glance into them was enough to make him instantly regret every word he had just said.
She wasn’t just worried, she was upset now, and he was the cause. Harry’s throat tightened. Idiot! He hadn’t wanted to ruin her peace, to burden her by his stupid words. But no! You had to open your silly mouth and do it…
And he had done that to Hermione—the one person who least deserved it. He scrambled for something to say. A joke, a change of subject, anything to calm the storm he’d put in her eyes. But his mind was blank, and then the chance suddenly slipped away.
One moment Hermione was standing there, her eyes fixed on him with that pained concern. The next however, she had closed the distance between them in a rush—sprinting toward him and throwing her arms around his neck.
“Oh, Harry…” she breathed shakily, her face buried deep against his shoulder. “Please don’t say things like that.”
Harry’s breath caught, his mind went empty, and his whole body stood stunned. Her embrace caught him so completely off guard that, for one long stupid moment, he forgot how to move. Then, cheeks warm, he hesitantly brought his trembling arms up to hug her back.
“Hermione,” Harry stammered. “I… I didn’t mean to.”
“You are a great wizard, Harry. You really are.” She pressed herself to him even tighter. “I have faith in you.”
“Sorry… I mean… Thanks,” Harry felt ashamed, having absolutely no idea what to say.
For a long moment, silence settled around them. Harry held her, aware of nothing but the feel of her trembling and the sound of her heavy breaths—each hitching with the swallowed cries she was fighting back in her throat.
“Don’t thank me,” she finally managed to whisper. “I don’t want you to thank me. All I want from you…” Her choked-up throat stopped her.
The tremor in her voice melted his heart. But beneath it, he sensed something else. Something raw—a need so desperate it made his chest ache. She wanted something…
“Anything, Hermione… just tell me.” He tried to hold his voice together while something inside him—instinct, perhaps—begged him to stroke her back.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, pulling him closer than before.
“All I want from you… is to stay safe.” She trembled, the words merely a tremulous whisper against his shoulder. “Please, Harry… just be careful.”
Her plea landed so hard it made him utterly speechless for quite some time. That was it. Her panic, her tears, it all came down to this. All she cared about was him coming back in one piece. All she cared about was his well-being.
“We’ll be safe Hermione, all of us,” he whispered in her ear. “They… the judges told us they have taken precautions,” continued Harry slowly. “They’ve made sure of it…”
Still held against him, Hermione shook her head, “I don’t care what they say… People have died in this tournament, Harry.” She helplessly tried to stifle her sobs. “What… What do you expect me to do if something happens to you? What am I supposed to do if…”
Her sentence remained hanging. Her voice cracked, and he felt the hot, distinct drops of her tears seeping through his shirt.
She didn’t need to continue. He knew very well. He knew, with a cold, sinking certainty, exactly what she meant…
“Easy, Hermione. Easy…” He tried to calm her, his movements gentle and steady—one hand stroking her back, his voice a soft whisper in her ear. But deep down, his own fear was a mirror of hers; he was as anxious as she was.
However, somehow his heart was aware with a certainty that overrode his panic, that right here and now, she had to come first. He had to remain calm, so she could once again find peace within herself. Just like her doing the same for me many times…
“What am I supposed to do without you?” After several shuddering breaths, her whisper came again, raw and broken. “I can’t imagine a world without you in it. I can’t, Harry… I can’t.”
“I promise, Hermione,” Harry breathed, begging his voice not to break. “I promise I’ll take every precaution. I’ll come back safely.”
He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to say what his heart wanted. It may sound awkward, but just look at her… She is already shaking in my arms. She needs to hear it. She needs it… We need it… I need it…
He drew a slow, steadying breath. Then, leaning closer, he whispered the words into her ear so softly they felt meant for her alone. As if he was trying to keep the words only a secret between the two of them. He didn’t even want the ancient walls around them to overhear and ruin their private moment.
“I promise we’ll hug each other tomorrow after everything just like this… we’ll be in each other’s arms again.”
It took a few seconds before he started to feel the change. Hermione’s breathing began to gradually slow down, and she wasn’t shaking that much anymore. For a long moment, she simply continued to breath against him, her form softening in his arms.
“Your word?” she finally whispered, her voice still choked-up.
“My word.” Harry’s hand lifted from her back toward her head—but it stopped mid-air for a moment before slowly reaching her head—now stroking that.
He struggled to name his current feeling. He had almost let hesitation, or perhaps fear take over something he himself couldn’t quite name. But whatever it was, it was connected to her, and the warm sensation that crept over his neck.
“Thanks,” she murmured almost to herself, but enough to pull Harry out of his private world.
“Just so you know,” he whispered a few seconds later. “I can’t imagine a world without you in it either.”
The warmth of blushing visited his cheeks as he gently rested his head on her shoulder. He let his head settle more heavily on her shoulder, clinging to the embrace so he wouldn’t have to meet her eyes just yet. Not while the echo of his own words still hummed in the air between them.
However in those moments, he felt strange. Feeling safe and peaceful wasn’t a part of his recent life at Hogwarts. But now, it was the opposite. He could finally say what it meant to feel safe and sound—as if there was no daunting task ahead of him tomorrow. As if she was a sanctuary he could take refuge and hide from the world.
He should’ve known. He didn’t need sleep. And he didn’t need more practice either. He needed her and her embrace… and the warmth of her body against his own.
His fingers continued their slow path through her hair. Their breathing slowed down and their heartbeats synced eventually as they slowly let go of each other.
They stared at each other’s eyes for a moment. Then Hermione huffed a soft chuckle, her eyes closing as her head dipped forward.
“What?” Hermione’s chuckle made a smile form on his face.
“Nothing,” she said, the chuckle still in her voice as she looked up. “It’s just…”
“Just what?” Harry prompted, his brow furrowing.
“I noticed your fingers struggling to go through my curls,” she whispered, looking embarrassed. “I know my hair is a mess… I’m sorry.”
She was kind of right; his fingers did get caught by some curls in her hair. However, something she had said hurt his heart.
His gaze traced the path his fingers had taken through her hair, lingering on each unruly, brown curl.
Why would she say that? Just because of other people’s nasty comments?
“Your hair is not a mess, Hermione.” He insisted after a pause.
“Thank you, Harry,” she whispered back, smiling at him. “But you don’t need to…”
“I’m not! I mean it.” He interrupted stubbornly, shaking his head. “In fact, it’s quite beautiful…” The words came out as an unintentional whisper, and made his gaze freeze on her hair.
Clocks seemed to have stopped ticking. A rosy blush swept over Hermione’s cheeks at his words; Harry felt a matching heat flood his own face.
“Oh… umm… thanks,” she whispered back, stealing a glance at him. “That’s very kind of you.”
“Right… I mean… don’t mention it.” Harry didn’t dare to look at her.
“It felt quite nice,” whispered Hermione. “What you were doing… I really liked it.”
He gathered his courage and looked up. Her eyes were waiting, meeting his instantly.
“Yeah,” he said awkwardly. “Me too…”
She tilted her head slightly, her kind eyes meeting his. Then her hand slowly reached for the front of his hair, gently caressing it as she always did.
Then, when her hand retreated, she offered him a smile. The smile Harry would give all he had in this world just to see it every morning he woke up.
“Go get some sleep, Harry,” she said softly, still smiling at him. “You really need it.”
Harry stared at her for a moment. Then, he decided to offer a smile in return. She deserved it.
It was as he found himself deeply lost in her eyes that an unexpected thought crossed his mind.
“Would you sleep here with me?” He heard his own voice—the words coming out before he could even think to stop them.
Hermione froze, a puzzled look crossing her face. For a few seconds—which felt like eternity for him—she simply stared, his words hanging in the air between them.
When she finally digested what he had actually offered, her eyes widened with surprise. Had he asked her to cuddle?
Harry was in no better condition. His mouth remained half open as his cheeks turned pink. The room suddenly felt aflame.
“I-I-I mean,” Harry stuttered, unable to keep his eyes on her. “I wanna stay out here tonight…”
“And?” Hermione prompted, her voice carefully steady—though her cheeks were still flushed.
Her voice didn’t sound like she was accusing him. If anything, awkward as it was, he felt her intention might be to come across slow and gentle—accompanied by a bit of sympathy.
“I want to stay here, not to practice, but to get some rest just like you said.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “And I… I-I wondered whether you’d like to stay here… with me.”
There was silence for a bit longer than he’d anticipated. The roar of the fireplace beside them was the only thing filling the silence between them. But then, he heard her soft voice, stroking his ears.
“There is no need to ask,” Hermione whispered shyly. “I would like that.”
Harry looked up at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she had suddenly become very interested in the carvings of her wand.
“You would like that?” Harry repeated in disbelief. “You mean it?”
“Yes, I mean it,” answered Hermione, murmuring under her breath. “It’s kind of nice.”
Nice. What a word—capable of describing his feelings, and yet wholly failing to encapsulate how impactful her joining him felt.
“So… umm… I think we could settle by the fire, you know.” He regretted his words at once.
Why should you open your mouth and make it even more awkward than it is?
“Oh, okay,” she whispered playfully, giving a shrug. Then a soft, blushing smile touched her lips. “I’m all yours.”
Harry felt his world crumbling beneath him. She had said I’m all yours. The phrase had hit differently. It had touched a part of his heart so deep that he didn’t know what to do. He barely even knew what it meant. All he did know was that it felt sweet… lovely…
Hesitantly—since it was the only gesture he came up with—he offered his hand. Their eyes met. A silent question in his. A shy certainty in hers. Hermione’s fingers slid into his, eager and warm.
He stared at their joint hands for a while. Once again, something inside him told him to stroke the top of her hand. And he did. Her skin was so soft. What a pleasant sensation—her warmth against his skin…
Harry moved toward their usual seats next to the fire. But he decided to sit not on them, but on the ground instead. He couldn’t quite say why he’d done it—but Hermione’s expression showed that she apparently fancied the idea.
When they sat down, leaning back against their chairs, Harry came to have a hunch why he’d decided to sit here. Maybe it was because the chairs wouldn’t allow them to get as physically close. Not as close as he instinctively desired, anyway…
If they had sat in them, he would’ve never experienced the exquisite pressure of her body against his side. It sent a great heat wave flowing through him when she snuggled in closer, resting her head on his shoulder.
Seconds became minutes and he didn’t even notice how much time had passed. They had remained as they were. Her head a perfect, warm weight on his shoulder while his own rested gently atop hers—their arms wrapped around each other in silence.
He had never felt this peaceful in his entire life. However, he knew perfectly well that it couldn’t last—that tomorrow morning he’d be lost in the misery of his anxieties once again.
But he also knew that he’d just written the best page in his book of memories… and it was still being written.
He listened to her harmonious breathing until Hermione stirred a bit in her place. Harry lifted his head just enough to look at her. Her eyes were closed, and a faint smile had crossed her lips.
“Harry?” she whispered, her eyes still closed. “You awake?”
“I am,” he whispered back. “What is it?”
“You’ll keep your promise, won’t you?” she asked, hesitation and shyness threading through her voice.
Harry picked up his hand from her shoulder for a moment. He hesitated, but his fingers weaved through her hair again anyway—gently attempting to soften her curls.
“You know what, Hermione? What I really needed wasn’t more sleep or practice,” he whispered. “It was you… and your embrace.”
Hermione didn’t say a word. Neither did she open her eyes, nor did she raise her head. Instead, she just lay there—letting Harry’s fingers travel through her curls.
“Is that a yes?” she whispered, biting her lower lip.
“It is…” Harry whispered back as his hand reached back for her shoulder, squeezing it gently.
“You owe me another embrace, then… tomorrow…” she murmured slowly.
Then, she let out a heavy breath, readjusting to lean on him more comfortably. And a few seconds later, her breathing became soundless.
One confirmation she needed to hear, and she is out like a light… resting peacefully next to me…
Harry knew having her curled against him would bring him a peaceful night’s sleep as well. And in the moments before falling asleep, he made a promise to himself.
If I get past my dragon tomorrow, I promise that I will repay her in ways she’d never expect. She deserves the best. She deserves… everything.
A new realization washed over him, drawing a faint, tired smile to his lips. There is no ‘if.’ I’ve made her a promise… and I’m going to keep it. Tomorrow, together, an embrace…