Chapter 22
Harry blinked his eyes open, gently rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He sat up and admired the quiet silence of the second-year dormitories. It was a Saturday, and for once he didn't have to be woken up at dawn in for Quidditch practice. Today, he had a Quidditch match, and just the thought of it was enough for him to smile giddily. The thought of returning to the air, to chase the Snitch with the entirety of Gryffindor cheering him on was enough to wipe his worries of the Chamber of Secrets out of his mind.
The days since Harry had discovered the capabilities of Riddle's diary had been miserable. He'd watched Hagrid set loose a monster on Hogwarts fifty years ago, and he had come to realize he was doing it again. The half-giant was one of Harry's closest friends, if he was being honest. Besides Hermione, and maybe Ron, he couldn't name anyone in the magical world who had done more for him. Now, the same man who'd introduced him to the wizarding world was unleashing a horrific spider capable of petrifying students.
Harry had felt an emptiness gnawing away at his insides the moment he realized Hagrid was responsible. The moment he'd told Hermione, she was equally crestfallen. She'd been reading on their usual couch in the common room, and when he'd brandished the diary in her face, ranting incoherently about Hagrid and a giant spider, she'd looked ready to cry.
Ron had also turned morose once Harry told him, but he tried to maintain his chipper demeanor to try and lighten his and Hermione's moods, to little avail. The brown-eyed witch in particular had spent even more time than usual reading, and their conversations stopped flowing as they always did. It made Harry feel that much more upset about everything, especially after he and Hermione had been back to their old selves for such a short time after she'd gotten out of the Hospital Wing.
But today featured something that could vanquish those depressing thoughts entirely – Quidditch.
Eagerly pushing any thoughts about the Chamber of Secrets to the side, Harry swung his legs off the bed. Each of his roommates slumbered peacefully, and a glance at his watch told him it was just before seven. He shrugged, opting to go down to the common room and read by the fire for a bit before he had to worry about donning his Quidditch robes. He glanced out the window and saw it promised to be a beautiful day – barely any clouds grazed the sky, and the sun bathed the entirety of the Hogwarts grounds in a gorgeous golden light.
For a moment he considered studying up for Potions, but paused when he caught sight of a familiar booklet in his trunk – A Few Good Men. He smiled to himself as he pulled it out, already slightly worn from multiple read-throughs, and decided he'd rather enjoy his morning than subject himself to self-induced torture regarding Snape's assigned reading on Jawbind Potions.
He winced as he opened the book to the last page he'd been on and saw it was dog-eared. The last time Hermione had caught him commit such a foul act against a book, she'd hit him on the shoulder with The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2 so hard he'd fallen off the couch. Deciding he did not want to relive that pain, he went to grab a bookmark from his bedside table drawer.
"What're you doing up?" A sluggish voice grumbled from behind him. Harry turned to see a particularly lethargic looking Neville Longbottom sitting up in bed, staring at him inquisitively.
"Nothing, Neville. Go back to sleep." Harry whispered. Neville nodded absent-mindedly, clearly not completely awake. He gracelessly fell backwards onto his pillow and was snoring instantly.
Harry shook his head at his friend's torpor before turning back to his bedside table. Taking extra care to not let the squeaky drawer wake his friends, he gingerly inched it open.
He felt his stomach plummet so fast he thought he was going to collapse. A wave of nausea washed over him as he saw a patch of pink, and his knees buckled unsteadily.
'Nice going.' His inner voice taunted, but even the oft-sadistic voice seemed a tad dejected at the sight of the envelope. Slowly, Harry opened the drawer fully, and his heart shriveled up on itself.
Hermione's Valentine lay untouched in front of him, and just below it lay the bookmark he'd intended to grab. Steadying his shaky breath, Harry ignored the bookmark and pulled the letter out. His first name was written in his best friend's pristine handwriting. He fought the urge to groan at his own stupidity. He remembered how pleasantly surprised he'd felt when Hermione had given him the letter in the common room, how excited he'd been about his first Valentine, before…
Why hadn't he opened it?
'The diary.' His inner voice returned. 'As I said, nice going.'
"Shut up." Harry grumbled, before clapping a hand over his mouth, realizing he'd spoken out loud. Mercifully, his friends continued to snore obliviously. Letting out a very wobbly breath, he closed the drawer and stared at the pink envelope in his hands for a few moments.
He remembered sprinting down the stairs after spending hours with the diary, writing with Tom Riddle and observing his memories regarding the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione had been sitting on their usual couch, her nose buried in a book as per usual. When Harry had come bounding over, brandishing the diary in her face and exclaiming incoherently that Hagrid had opened the Chamber fifty years ago, she'd been understandably bewildered, but she'd been surprisingly upset.
Harry had assumed it was because of the diary. He barely resisted the urge to fling himself out the window as he realized just how stupid he'd been. Hermione had been quieter, more reserved, more introverted ever since he'd revealed what he'd gathered from the diary. But it had nothing to do with Hagrid, or Tom Riddle, or even the Chamber of Secrets.
Harry's stomach felt like it had been turned inside out and drenched with acid, and for a moment he considered bolting to the bathroom to retch. He dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach and rocking back and forth, trying to take deep breaths. He'd clearly hurt Hermione. The one thing he swore to never do after he found her crying in the girls' toilets on Halloween a year ago. He'd hurt his best friend. Everything suddenly clicked in a gut-wrenching way, every time she'd buried her nose in a book instead of talking to him, every time she shrugged distractedly when he asked her a question, every time she'd gone to bed early instead of sitting in the common room with him, it was all because of the envelope that lay forgotten in his bedside table.
Whatever was written in there had to be something big. Something worth reacting to. He hadn't acknowledged it all. He hadn't even touched it since she handed it to him in the common room, a shy smile on her face.
For a moment, he tried convincing himself he hadn't screwed up that badly. Valentine's Day was on a Sunday, and today was Friday, so it had been how many days? He glanced up and caught sight of Dean's calendar pinned to one of his bedposts.
May 8th.
"Shit." He groaned, not even caring that he'd spoken out loud this time. He remained on the ground, trying to make himself calm down enough to think straight. Slowly, he got to his feet, his legs quaking underneath him.
He let out another frustrated exhale before staggering out of the common room, A Few Good Men in one hand and the Valentine in the other.
He descended the marble staircase into an empty common room and plopped himself down onto his usual couch by the fireplace. Feeling a tad calmer now that he was on a comfortable couch, he examined the pink letter once again. Tossing the book to the side, he delicately pried the envelope open. He thought he was moving at an agonizingly slow pace, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to move any faster.
With shaky hands, he pulled a folded piece of parchment out of the envelope. Opening it to its full length, Harry looked to the top.
Before he could even read the first word, he heard footsteps clopping down the staircase of the boys' dormitories. Panicking, he grabbed A Few Good Men off the couch cushion next to him and opened it to a random page, placing the parchment over the pages to give the appearance he was reading the play. He glanced up to see Percy Weasley strolling down to the common room rather pompously.
"Good morning, Harry. Studying?" He asked, absent-mindedly adjusting his prefect badge.
"It's, um, well, it's a Muggle play. I really like it." Harry stammered, and Percy shrugged.
"Glad to see you're at least reading something. It certainly beats those mind-numbing games like chess or card games that my brothers adore." His tone grew increasingly disdainful towards the end of his sentence. "Well, enjoy." He said matter-of-factly before striding to the portrait hole. Harry waited until he heard the Fat Lady swing closed before returning to the letter. Even at first glance it was clear Hermione had been ten times as loquacious as the few sentences he'd scribbled onto his Valentine for her.
Harry,
There have been five hundred and thirty-two days between this Valentine's Day and the day we met on the Hogwarts Express. With every fiber of my being, I know that they have been the best five hundred and thirty-two days of my life. And before you get all high and mighty, I'll have you know that going to school at Hogwarts and learning magic played a fairly large part – it's not just you.
Harry found it in him to chuckle to himself before continuing.
That said, you have made the past year and a half better than I ever could have dreamed. Every time we've studied in the library, every time we've hung out in the common room, every time we've sat next to each other in the Great Hall, every waking moment I've had the pleasure of spending with you has made my life immeasurably better.
Some moments in particular have improved my life exponentially. Every time I brush my teeth in the mirror, I think about how you complimented my teeth on the train and I smile to myself. Then, I usually think about how I threw my arms around you because it was the only thing I could think to do, and I start blushing furiously.
You probably don't remember, but after our first Charms Exam I dragged you to the library to study with me because I didn't think you were trying hard enough. It was the first time we ever studied together. Afterwards, you fell asleep on the couch in the common room and I sat next to you and just started reading. It was the first time we ever sat on our couch together, the same one we sit on almost every night once curfew arrives.
Harry looked down at the very couch he was sitting on and smiled fondly at the memory. How could she think he would forget such a great day? Then again, he had forgotten her Valentine. He cringed at himself, then cringed upon realizing he and Hermine hadn't shared this couch in over two months.
As I'm certain you can imagine by now, I think about you bursting into the bathroom on Halloween almost every day. You were a boy I'd known for less than two months, who cared more about my safety than his own, and fought a mountain troll to prove it. It was on that day I decided to protect you as you would for me, no matter what. It was on that day I noticed just how much you meant to me. It was on that day you became my hero.
I finally got the chance to repay you in the Forbidden Forest. Although I'll never forget shoving you out of the way and banishing You-Know-Who off to protect you, the part of that night I love the most was before that. We spent the better part of that night holding hands as we walked through the Forbidden Forest. We'd only held hands once before then, and I was so flustered you thought I was scared and pulled away. Having my fingers laced with yours felt just as exhilarating as fighting the Dark Lord, although I'm glad we do the former of those two much more than the latter these days.
A few weeks later I just knew you were going to try and stop You-Know-Who from getting the Sorcerer's Stone. I tried to convince you not to go in the common room, but I could tell you weren't going to listen. So after you went upstairs I stayed in the common room and had a very intense internal debate about what to do. For a moment, I even considered getting McGonagall to watch the portrait hole because I would have much rather had you hate me for ratting you out than see you die that night. But the moment I heard your footsteps coming down the stairs, I knew I wanted to go with you, and there was nothing you could do to stop me. When we were in the potions chamber, and I thought I might never see you again, I did something I'd wanted to do for almost a year by then, and I kissed you on the cheek. At first I thought you were cross with me, because I'd never seen your face so red. But I saw you touching your cheek when I walked through the fire and I knew I did something right.
I didn't sleep and I barely ate for the three days you were in the Hospital Wing. I had never been so worried in my life about you. Seeing you lying in that bed with your eyes closed, I was almost certain You-Know-Who had done you in. The morning after you defeated Professor Quirrell, I was by your bedside for hours while all the teachers discussed what to do. Eventually, they decided I had to go and get some rest, but I refused, in a very loud and tearful manner. Dumbledore had to physically pull me away from you while I cried, it was actually rather embarrassing.
If Harry didn't have tears of his own forming in his eyes, he was certain he would have burst out laughing at that admission.
Then I managed to convince my parents to let you stay with us for the summer, and it was the best summer of my life. Although it pales in comparison to the beauty of the Hogwarts Grounds, I loved every one of our walks through Sapphire Park, especially eating mint chip ice cream with you. I loved going shopping with you, and you even made me love camping – something I thought I would hate. I especially enjoyed you staring at me that night by the fire.
Harry had to stop reading for a moment, feeling his face grow hot enough to fry an egg.
I bet you blushed just then – I'd never seen you look as flustered as you did that night. After that I loved working in the kitchen with you, even though you made fun of me a lot. I especially loved baking cookies, and even though I'm sure you didn't know what you meant by it, I'll always remember something you said that day: "I'm sure whichever cookie you erroneously claim to find ugly will actually be the tastiest one of the lot. That's usually how baking goes anyway."
For a moment I thought you had reached Herman Melville levels of metaphors when you said that, but I know you were just being nice and had no idea how much those words meant to me and my self-confidence.
Harry paused, trying to decipher his own quote. He pursed his lips as he thought about alternative interpretations to his fairly simple piece of baking advice, but shrugged when he couldn't find any.
I loved your birthday this past summer. I loved going out to dinner and sharing my food with you and giving you those gifts. Seeing you react the way you did over something I did for you sent me over the moon.
Of course, you had to one-up me come September 19th by giving me the greatest birthday gift I've ever received in my life. As much as I love the photos of you, me, and Ron, the album with the photos of just you and I is the one I keep on my bedside table, the one I flip through every night before giggling into my pillow like a schoolgirl.
I don't want to bore you to death by recounting every single moment we've shared together. I'm sure you're either laughing or hoping you're near the end of this letter anyway.
As Harry wiped his eyes, he couldn't even bring himself to smile at just how wrong Hermione was.
I love spending time with you, Harry, even more than I love spending time reading. I know, I know – who am I and what have I done with Hermione Granger, ha-ha hilarious. In all seriousness, I can't truly describe how I feel when I'm around you. It's like everything else is irrelevant, even school. Whenever we're holding hands, I can't think of anything except the feeling of your fingers intertwined with mine. Whenever I'm leaning against you, like when we watched the sunset in the Forest of Dean, or when we watched the snow fall on the Hogwarts Grounds the day I left the Hospital Wing, I can't think about anything except the fact that my head is on your shoulder and how comfortable it is. Even when we're in the library or reading in the common room, it takes all of my effort to focus on the words in front of me instead of a certain emerald-eyed wizard nearby.
'So that's how she'd describe your eyes.' His inner voice snickered. 'I'd pick emeralds over toads every day of the week.' Harry pressed on, tuning out his internal thoughts.
You mean more to me than words are capable of describing, Harry Potter. And I didn't think I'd be able to tell you all of this face-to-face without running off with my face buried in my hands or with you laughing at me, so here we are.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Love,
Hermione
Harry sat in silence for what felt like hours. He reread the letter half a dozen times, feeling his heart swell each time. Finally, he looked away from the parchment and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling as a wave of emotion crashed into him with the force of a tsunami. He couldn't believe how moronic he had been to leave such a beautiful message forgotten in his bedside drawer for two months. He couldn't believe how Hermione's words had him feeling like he was floating. He couldn't believe a lot of things right then and there, and for a moment he wondered if this was all a bizarre dream.
Harry had close to a gazillion thoughts racing through his head, but he was ripped away from all of them when he heard footsteps coming down one of the staircases. He didn't have to turn to know it was Hermione, but he looked anyway.
She moved quietly, but the common room was completely silent, save the crackling of the fireplace in front of him. She suddenly came into view, and Harry felt his heart leap into his throat.
She was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, using muscle memory to guide herself down the marble stairs. Her trademark bushy brown hair looked even more all over the place than it usually did, and she let out a small yawn as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She closed her eyes as she did so, reaching her arms over her head and arching her back as she stretched.
'Like a cat.' Harry thought amusedly before he glanced down at the letter in his hand. Gathering every bit of that bravery Hermione told him he had almost a year ago, he shakily got to his feet. Hermione finally opened her eyes and caught sight of him.
She flashed him a radiant smile, the one smile he'd grown to appreciate more than anyone else's. But even from across the room, Harry could see it didn't reflect in her eyes. None of her smiles had lit up her eyes since Valentine's Day. And the ever-intuitive Harry Potter had thought it was about Hagrid. For a moment he thought about setting himself on fire.
"What are you doing up so early?" She asked, still smiling. "Quidditch nerves?"
"Can we talk?" He choked out, feeling his face heat up.
"Someone once said I usually just start talking without giving you a choice." She smirked, but her eyes darkened with concern. Harry gave a halfhearted smile, but his stomach was lurching so hard he found it difficult to breathe.
Hermione eventually nodded and walked over to the couch before hesitantly sitting down, and Harry sat next to her. He kept his eyes on the fireplace in front of him, unable to meet the inquisitive gaze of his best friend.
"Hermione…" He started, his voice wavering. He took a few shaky breaths before continuing. "Last Halloween, when I found you in the bathroom…" He was finding it increasingly difficult to speak, and he remembered how in the past whenever he was overcome with emotion Hermione would instinctively place her hand on his. He glanced over to see she was sitting on her hands, her expression one of confusion and worry. He turned back to the fire, closing his eyes in shame.
"Last Halloween, when you were crying in my arms, I promised myself that I would never hurt you. Seeing you in so much pain, with all those tears, I think it hurt me more than you were hurting that day." He sighed, feeling his voice grow steadier and steadier as he progressed. "I promised myself that I would never hurt you, and I broke that promise almost three months ago without even knowing it.
"Since I told you about Hagrid and the Chamber of Secrets, you've been despondent to say the least. And I thought it was because you were worried about him. It turns out I was wrong about someone else's feelings. Again." He sighed, shaking his head at himself. "I'm not making excuses, because I don't want to do that to you. You deserve better than that." He heard her hitch her breath next to him, but he didn't turn. He didn't even open his eyes. "I was looking for a bookmark this morning, and I found something. Something I hadn't seen since February."
"Harry…"
"When I ran upstairs to grab my Valentine for you, Hermione, I dropped yours in my bedside table drawer while I was looking for an envelope. I didn't even think twice about it."
"Harry, why – "
"Then I went upstairs to read what you'd given me. Except I never got that far." He flinched at himself, wishing he could go back in time more than anything. "The rest of the boys, they found out that the diary absorbed all ink, and that's when I found out…everything." He trailed off, his voice now barely a whisper.
"Harry – "
"I forgot about you, Hermione. I forgot about you, the person who means more to me than anyone in the world. The person who would do anything for me, the person who has done everything she could for me. I let your Valentine sit in my bedside table for three months because I'm the biggest prat in the world." He paused, his voice cracking. "I know that no apologies can make up for what I've done, but I want you to know that with every fiber of my being, I'm sorry."
"Harry, please – "
"I found it this morning." Harry heard her hitch her breath again. "I was looking for a bookmark and I opened my bedside table drawer for the first time in three months. The sight of your letter, seeing it ignored, untouched, for so long, it made me sick to my stomach, Hermione. I wanted to fling myself off the Astronomy Tower. I wanted to go back in time and beat my past self to death with my bare hands. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to – "
"Harry – "
"I wanted to undo it." He finished, feeling tears burning in his eyes. "I wish I hadn't done this to you, Hermione. I care too much about you." His voice faltered again, and this time he sat in silence, holding his head in his hands.
Hermione was silent for what felt like an entire year. Harry was certain she was going to run off crying any moment, or start hexing him until he couldn't walk. He hoped for the second one. Seeing Hermione hurt any more than she already had been would be too much.
"Did you read it?"
It was such a quiet voice, Harry thought it might have come from the other side of the common room. He slowly lifted his head to meet Hermione's eyes. He'd never seen them so tearful. He nodded, and her body trembled with a sob.
"Hermione, I'm so sorry." He managed, then winced at such a stupid thing to say. "What you wrote was the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. Ever. I can't believe I was stupid enough to leave it in a drawer gathering dust for so long, but I want you to know that I do appreciate what you wrote. I don't expect you to forgive me, and I understand if how you felt then is completely different than how you feel now."
Hermione inhaled sharply, and her bottom lip quivered.
"Hermione, you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. Better than magic. Better than Quidditch. Better than everything. And I threw it away because of some bloody diary." He sighed, and put his head back in his hands. "You deserve better than that."
Silence. Harry was certain he was going to burst into tears any moment.
More silence. He suddenly wondered if throwing himself off the Astronomy Tower was such a bad idea.
Then…
WHOMP
"Hermione!" He cried out, feeling a familiar wall of force crash into his side.
"I thought I'd lost you." She sobbed into his shoulder, tightening her arms around his torso hard enough to bend metal. For once, Harry didn't care about the pain. "I thought I'd lost you." She repeated.
Harry weakly patted her arms, feeling his best friend burrow into his shoulder and soaking his shirt with her tears.
"I know how you feel." He whispered, feeling a single tear roll down his cheek.
"I thought you wanted nothing to do with me at first." Hermione whimpered, somehow squeezing him even tighter. "I thought I'd scared you off with all those feelings. Then I thought you were just being nice about it, by focusing only on the diary instead of talking about what I wrote."
"Hermione, the day I want nothing to do with you is the day I want you to drown me in the Great Lake." He offered, and he heard Hermione let out a weak laugh. "Every word you wrote, I feel the same, Hermione. Every word." He paused. "Well, I don't exactly giggle into my pillow like a schoolgirl, but other than that…"
Hermione let out another laugh, more substantial than the last. They sat in silence for another few moments before she pulled away.
"So, I didn't lose you?" She asked, wiping a tear from her cheek. Harry shook his head.
"You're not getting rid of me that easily." He offered a small smile, and she beamed back before enveloping him in her arms once again. This time, Harry was prepared and hugged her back just as fiercely, burying his face in the comfort of her familiar bushy brown hair. He heard her let out a surprised gasp as he did so, but she made no move to pull away.
They sat in each other's arms for a long time, long enough for a few students to descend into the common room. Most were oblivious to the pair of second-years off to the side, hugging one another like they'd never see each other again. One student, however, did notice.
Harry glanced up to see Lavender Brown cheerfully walking down the staircase. She locked eyes with Harry and spotted Hermione, who still had her face in Harry's shoulder. Before Harry could open his mouth, Lavender flashed him a thumbs-up before skipping out of the common room, grinning from ear to ear.
Eventually, Hermione relinquished her death grip on Harry and pulled back. She was smiling again, and this time it reflected in her eyes. They weren't the dark, gloomy brown that they'd been for the past couple of months. They were sparkling, not just with tears, but with sheer joy.
"Hungry?" She asked, getting to her feet.
"Starving." Harry grinned. "I have to get my Quidditch stuff. Meet back here?" He asked. Hermione nodded eagerly, and they both sprinted back to their dormitories. Harry had never thrown his scarlet jersey and robes on so fast. After nearly three months of uncomfortable separation from his best friend, he didn't want to be apart from her any more than was absolutely necessary.
He rushed back down the stairs so fast he nearly tumbled down them, and met an equally eager Hermione by their couch.
"Ready?"
"Ready."
Hermione held out her hand, and Harry eagerly took it, grabbing his copy of A Few Good Men with his new impromptu bookmark still slipped between the pages.
They walked hand in hand to the Great Hall, chatting about all manner of things unrelated to diaries and monsters. After laughing to themselves about Lockhart still being scared of Hermione, she asked how he felt about the upcoming Quidditch match.
"I'm just relieved McGonagall hasn't taken it upon herself to cancel the season yet." Harry grinned, eliciting a playful eye-roll from his best friend. "I need redemption for last year. We would have won the Quidditch Cup but some prat wound up in the Hospital Wing and ruined everything."
"Oh, I remember that." Hermione mused sarcastically. "I was so mad that Gryffindor was going to lose I started crying."
"That's why you cried?" Harry asked with mock incredulousness, earning a teasing shoulder-bump from Hermione. They giggled like idiots for a moment before pausing just outside the Great Hall. "It's good to have you back, Hermione."
"It's good to have you back, Harry Potter." She beamed, suddenly bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.
"What's with the jumping?" Harry asked, unable to hide his amusement. Hermione just shrugged. "You want to hug me again, don't you?" He smirked.
"Just a bit."
"You know I'm never going to say no to a hug from Hermione Granger." He smirked, and Hermione's smile grew even wider before wrapping him up again in traditional bone-crushing fashion.
"I really did miss you." She whispered.
"I missed you too."
"Harry!" A voice bellowed out from behind them. The pair hurriedly put some space between themselves, dusting their clothes off and turning to the source of the voice.
"Good morning, Captain." Harry sighed, earning a grin from Oliver Wood.
"Big day today. Eat up, I'll meet you in the locker rooms in half an hour."
"The match doesn't start for over an hour!" Harry blurted before he could stop himself.
"We win this, we've got the Quidditch Cup locked up. I've got a speech that I think everyone will have everyone ready for the occasion." He grinned again before marching into the Great Hall.
"Swell…" Harry muttered, earning a laugh from Hermione.
"If you really want to get out of that, I'm sure McGonagall's still open to cancelling the match." She nudged Harry before slipping her hand back into his. Harry cracked a smile before they strolled into the Great Hall, sitting across from Ron.
"You better win today, Harry." Ron grinned through a mouthful of bacon. Harry and Hermione grimaced at the sight of their friend's open mouth, but Harry nodded.
"Because I usually go out there trying to lose."
"I'm just saying. You're undefeated when you actually play, but Gryffindor needs this. And you can stick it to all those Hufflepuff prats who think you're the Heir of Slytherin." The redhead chuckled.
Harry shrugged, grabbing some toast and launching into pleasant conversation for a while with Ron and Hermione before the latter suddenly grabbed his arm.
"What?" Harry asked as she yanked his arm towards herself and looked at his watch.
"You've got to get down to the locker rooms!" Hermione gasped. Harry glanced at his watch and raised his eyebrows in realization.
"Damn. I guess I do." He muttered, getting to his feet. "I'll see you guys down there?"
"Oh, please. You'd get lost on your way there without me." Hermione huffed sarcastically as she got to her feet.
"Yeah, I'll see you down there." Ron said distractedly, catching sight of a plate of sausage links. Harry and Hermione barely stifled their snickers at their friend's protein fascination before walking off.
Harry felt Hermione's fingers interlock with his once again and smiled to himself. They strolled down the steps, conversing excitedly about the match.
"I better be able to hear you from across the pitch." Harry grinned as they neared the stadium.
"You'll be able to hear me from across the planet." Hermione returned the smile, and Harry felt a wave of warmth wash over his entire body.
"This is nice." Harry said once they reached the entrance to the locker rooms. "Talking like this, with you." Hermione's cheeks tinged pink. "Plus, I think this is the longest I've gone without thinking about Slytherin's monster and hearing voices nobody else can." He smirked. Hermione nodded, but suddenly stiffened. "What?" He asked.
"I've…I've got it!" She gasped, suddenly throwing her arms around him and kissing him on the cheek. "I've got it!" She yelled again. "I'll see you out there!" She beamed before running off towards the castle.
"Oh…okay." Harry mumbled, lifting his fingers to his cheek. He heard footsteps coming from behind him
"What'd you say to Granger?" A voice called out.
"Huh?" Harry asked, still feeling rather dazed. He turned to see Angelina Johnson walking over.
"What'd you say to Granger?" She repeated inquisitively. "She was sprinting towards the castle muttering about the library."
"Erm, nothing really." Harry stammered. "Do I really need to say something for Hermione to go to the library anyway?" He asked, finally returning to the real world. Angelina smirked at that before walking into the locker rooms, holding the door so he could join.
Wood wasn't kidding. His game-day speech dragged on for nearly a half-hour, and Harry was sure it was plenty inspiring and motivational. But he couldn't take his mind off of the peck on the cheek he'd gotten just before walking in. From Hermione. Every few minutes he found himself touching his cheek, grinning like an idiot.
"And Harry!" Wood grinned, jarring the bespectacled wizard from his thoughts. "I've had Hooch inspect the Bludgers. No foul play today." Harry nodded, offering a half smile, and Wood dismissed the team.
Harry went to his locker to grab his broom, admiring the golden Nimbus Two Thousand inscription on the finely polished handle before closing his locker. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the rush he always felt just before he was about to fly. He grinned in anticipation and turned to the door.
Before he – or any of his teammates – could exit, said door flew open.
"Professor! It usually takes a couple of dates before I get this far!" George Weasley snickered, mockingly covering his already-clothed chest. Unsurprisingly, the teacher who marched in was unamused. In fact, Harry had never seen McGonagall's lips pressed so tightly together.
"This match has been cancelled." She announced sternly, and everybody froze.
"You can't cancel Quidditch!" Wood sputtered incredulously.
"I can, and I must." She responded with narrowing eyes.
"Hermione's going to have a field day…" Harry muttered amusedly to himself before the professor whirled on him.
"Potter, perhaps you should come with me."
Chapter 23
"Professor?"
"Mister Potter, please."
Harry stood rooted to the floor in fear.
"Professor, why – "
"Mister Potter, I think we both know the answer to that question"
Harry felt his stomach plummet. His Transfiguration teacher stood in front of him with her trademark tight-lipped expression, but her beady eyes held something he'd never seen in them – sadness. He shook his head instinctively, as if asking McGonagall to walk back what she'd just said. She did no such thing.
"Harry…" It was Wood, standing just behind him. He turned to see his Captain white-knuckling his broomstick, his face looking as crestfallen as Harry felt. "Go."
"It's alright, Harry." Katie Bell whispered. He turned again, surveying the room. Each of his teammates was nodding in understanding, their expressions depicting a common sympathy.
Harry nodded weakly, trying his best to offer them a smile, but knowing his lips were hardly up to the task. He turned back to McGonagall, who flicked her wand to open the door. He let his broom clatter to the floor and he walked to the exit, his eyes glued to the ground.
Once his shoes hit the grass of the Hogwarts Grounds, he heard the door close behind him and he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whipped his head up in surprise to see McGonagall staring straight ahead, her fingers digging into the skin of Harry's shoulder.
"Professor?"
She remained silent, but cast him a quick glance. Harry swore he saw her offer him the smallest of smiles, but he blinked and she was staring straight ahead again. She guided him to the castle, whisking him up a few staircases before bringing him to the doors of the Hospital Wing.
"Wait here." She said curtly. "Please."
Harry nodded, still feeling like he'd left his stomach in the locker room. He stood alone in the corridor, absent-mindedly adjusting his Seeker gloves in an uncomfortable silence, assuming McGonagall was talking to Madam Pomfrey. Then, a sharp voice rang out from the other side of the oak doors, loud enough to echo across the hallway.
"The boy has suffered enough!" He heard McGonagall practically shout. There was a pregnant pause, and for a moment Harry considered bolting back to the common room. Before he could act on such impulse, however, the doors were wrenched open by a flustered-looking Madam Pomfrey.
"You have ten minutes." She said matter-of-factly, shepherding Harry to one of the beds with the curtains drawn around it. With a flick of the nurse's hand, the curtains opened just a bit to allow Harry to slip through. "Ten minutes." She repeated, before leaving him.
Harry stood deathly still in front of the bed. For a moment, the body that lay in front of him looked entirely unfamiliar. Sure, he'd seen that mane of bushy brown hair before, but to see it unmoving, instead of bouncing up and down with the slightest movements was…foreign. Like someone had made a wax replica of his best friend. He blinked a few times, allowing his brain to process what was in front of him.
Hermione Granger lay on a hospital bed in front of him, and unlike the last time, he wasn't sure if he could comfort her at all. He felt his legs start to shake and instinctively grabbed the bedframe, his knees buckling slightly. He took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes and allowing himself to muster enough strength to stand up straight. He owed her that much.
Eventually he opened his eyes. Despite the smallest of hopes that lingered in his mind, Hermione hadn't budged. With a dejected sigh, he moved to the side of her bed and sat on the edge, instinctively placing his hand over hers. Instead of the warmth that constantly emanated from his best friend, her skin was cold, and the feeling sent a shiver down Harry's spine.
Eventually he brought his eyes to her face. Her mouth was frozen in a small 'o' shape, no doubt in surprise at the sight of Slytherin's monster. But her eyes were what captivated Harry. Her deep brown irises were always brimming with emotion, indicating just how she was feeling even if she tried to hide it.
Now, they were perfectly still, and completely devoid of any emotion. They looked like the eyes of a statue, carved with great detail but as inanimate as the bed she lay on. Harry sighed again, slowly rubbing circles on the back of Hermione's palm with his thumb.
"You told me you wouldn't end up in here again." He whispered, wondering if she could even hear him. "You told me. We had a deal, Hermione."
He suddenly felt the urge to turn his eyes to the ceiling, blinking away a few tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. He let out a few unsteady breaths before turning back to his best friend.
"I don't know if you can hear me. But I hope you can." He sighed, squeezing her hand. "Pomfrey is going to kick me out any minute. In the meantime I'm just going to sit here and hold your hand, and pretend you're asleep or something. But I'll be back tonight. You have my word, Hermione Granger. I'm coming back for you."
He sat on the edge of her bed for a few more minutes, staring at her motionless frame. Already, he was planning how he would manage to sneak out of the common room that night, how he'd don his Invisibility Cloak and tiptoe through the corridors. A small cough from behind him jarred him from his thoughts.
"I'm afraid I can't allow any more visits, Mister Potter." Madam Pomfrey sighed as she guided Harry towards the doors. "I can't allow even the faintest of chances that her attacker will return."
Harry nodded glumly in understanding and traipsed back to the common room. He didn't bother changing out of his Quidditch robes as he flopped onto his bed, and he didn't bother getting up until the sun was swallowed by the horizon hours later.
Harry found it in himself to get changed into his pajamas, hoping he could convince his fellow second-years he'd been asleep and would be asleep for the rest of the night once they came up for bed. Just before he could crawl under his sheets, however, the door creaked open.
He turned to see Ron standing uneasily in the doorway, an emerald-green book in his hands.
"How are you feeling?" He asked awkwardly. Harry shrugged, darting his eyes to the floor. He heard the redhead sigh before continuing. "Well…we all know you're not staying in that bed tonight."
Harry grimaced. After all his nights spent in the Hospital Wing when Hermione had undergone her unwanted feline transformation, he should have guessed his peers would suspect his plans for the night.
"None of us blame – er, none of us really expect anything different." Ron paused, clearly uncomfortable with the gravity of the situation. "Look, erm…Lavender asked me to give this to you. She said Hermione reads it every night before she goes to sleep, and she thought you should bring it to her tonight. I guess you could read it aloud to her or something…I don't know." With shaking arms, Ron brandished the book he was holding, and Harry finally got a good look at it.
It was the photo album – the second photo album – he'd given Hermione for her birthday. The one with the photos of just the two of them, the one she'd mentioned in her Valentine. Harry felt his heart shrink in on itself a bit, but he managed to walk over to Ron and take the book. He tried to give his friend a grateful smile, but he knew it looked more like a scowl than anything. Ron nodded in understanding and uncertainly placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I know I'm no Hermione Granger. None of us are." He chuckled, before returning to a serious expression. "But you've always got us. Your Gryffindor Gang has got your back, whenever you need it." He offered before turning to leave. Harry felt his heart suddenly swell with gratitude, and felt a smile creep up across his face.
An hour later, he gently pushed open the doors of the Hospital Wing, the photo album clutched in his hand. He made his way over to Hermione's bed and slipped inside the curtains. Muttering Lumos, he placed his lit wand on her bedside table and sat on the edge of her bed.
"Told you I'd be back." He said, trying to smile but failing once again. "Lavender said I should bring this to you. I feel like it's a bit insulting to just leave it here, knowing you can't open it and what-not, so I thought I could describe the pictures out loud to you." He whispered, placing the emerald album in her line of sight for a moment.
"So, erm…here goes." He began awkwardly. "This photo here, it's the first one Colin took once you asked if we could have some pictures in pairs. I thought I'd be all nice and step to the side first…let you and Ron get some good photos in. But you snaked your arm around my waist – it was actually quite cheeky of you, now that I think about it…" He trailed off, snickering. "Anyway, it's the photo of you tugging me closer, and you've got this dazzling smile on your face. You're looking at me at first, while you pull me in. I've got this dumb look on my face – I'm sure you just call it my normal face – before turning to the camera to smile. I remember being really surprised at how suddenly you just…yanked me closer to you. It was nice..." He sighed, staring at the photo wistfully.
"I'm sure, like every other book you own, you've got this thing memorized from cover to cover. But I thought maybe, if you can hear me, you'd like to be reminded of some happy memories. If not, well, I can certainly use some joy right now, so it still works out." He smirked, taking one hand and placing it over Hermione's once again.
"This next one is me putting my arm around your waist while trying to look at the camera. Oh, yikes, I've never actually looked at this one closely. That wasn't my smoothest moment." He chuckled, shaking his head amusedly at his past self clumsily trying to wrap his arm around Hermione. "Then there's this one, of you resting your head on my shoulder. You look so content here, you know. It's like every bit of tension you carry around just vanished the moment your head hit my shoulder. I remember your hair tickling my cheek that day. It always does when you lean on me like that, but I really don't mind.
"There's this one, where your head is still on my shoulders, but you've turned to look up at me. I remember thinking you were trying to do some kind of puppy-eyes thing. You looked so…I don't even know what word to use."
'Cute?' The voice in his head offered, and Harry rolled his eyes.
"The next one you've turned back to face the camera, but you're giggling now. I'm looking at you like you're a crazy person, but I have this small smile. I remember wondering why on Earth you'd decided to start laughing, thinking that someone had put something in your pumpkin juice.
"But, I don't know if you've noticed by now, your laughter is contagious. Really, it's like the plague, but in a good way, every time you burst into a fit of giggles I feel the need to start cackling too. And that's exactly what happened that day." Harry smiled in reminiscence, turning the page. "I'm sure the next picture will show, yep! There it is. We're now laughing like complete idiots. I'm pretty sure Ron actually called us lunatics when we finally wrapped this photo session up. I don't know if I've ever laughed as hard as I did then.
"These next photos are just you and I laughing hysterically. They're great photos, though. I really like this one in particular. You probably already know which one. You're laughing so hard you can't even stand up straight, so you leaned your back against my chest for support. I thought I was about to fall over too, but then I felt you sort of start slipping, so I sort of wrapped my arms around you before you could start rolling on the ground in the courtyard like the crazy person that you are.
"But nothing beats this last photo. I remember when Colin showed it to me, the day before your birthday. At first I thought about strangling him, for taking a photo without our permission, but it's just the best. I decided to have him add it at the last minute. I thought you might be mortified when you saw it, to be honest. I mean, someone we barely know taking pictures of us? It's actually even weirder now that I say it out loud…
"Anyway, the point is, the photo turned out great. It's the one in the library, where I'm cupping your chin because you were either ignoring me or just too engrossed in your book. I don't think I even noticed how red your cheeks were when it happened, but in the photo they're the same color as my Quidditch jersey. I don't know if I've ever seen you look so flustered." He sighed wistfully. "You look adorable in this photo, you know that?" He added before he could stop himself.
He sat in silence, marveling at his own instincts to say such a thing before coming to his senses. "I…erm, well, now I don't know if I want you to be able to hear me or not." He laughed awkwardly, gingerly closing the photo album.
"That's the last picture, anyway. It's really late, and as much as I'd love to keep rambling about happy moments, I can barely keep my eyes open. But I'm not going anywhere." He added defiantly, moving off the bed to grab a nearby chair. "I'll be right here, Hermione." He whispered as he wrapped himself in the Invisibility Cloak and sat down in the chair. Carefully, he placed the emerald album under Hermione's pillow before leaning back. He took one last look at his best friend, and drifted off to sleep with a faint smile on his face.
The Next Night
Harry creeped into the Hospital Wing almost a full hour later than he had the previous night. He quickly parted the curtains around Hermione's bed and slipped inside, dropping the Invisibility Cloak on the chair he'd slept in the night before.
"Sorry I'm late." He said, then cringed at such a bizarre way to start their one-sided conversation. "Erm, anyway, a lot happened today. All those prats from Hufflepuff apologized to me for saying I was the Heir of Slytherin and what-not, which was nice enough I suppose. They all said they knew I'd never attack you, but they've never seen how annoyed I get when you trash Quidditch." He laughed at his own joke for a moment, but felt distinctly empty with a silent Hermione next to him.
"Right, well, I went down to Hagrid's. I was ready to vivisect him, Hermione, ready to tell him off for letting a monster loose that ended up hurting you. I was so ready to be angry with him, but when I knocked on his door he pulled me in and immediately launched into an explanation of how he'd had nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets – this time or the last time.
"I had to go to his hut in my Invisibility Cloak since nobody's allowed to leave their common rooms besides meals and classes. Before I could ask Hagrid if he knew who had opened the Chamber, someone knocked on the door and I hid in the corner. Then, Dumbledore walked in with Cornelius Fudge – Minister of Magic – and Lucius Malfoy. Turns out that smarmy git is a school governor, and he'd pretty much bullied Fudge into having Dumbledore sacked and Hagrid sent to Azkaban. It was awful to watch, really." Harry paused, pursing his lips at the memory.
"But, last night I had a good time talking about happy thoughts, so I thought I'd do that again." He grinned, turning to Hermione. He let out a small sigh at the sight of her unmoving form, but gingerly placed his hand over hers once again.
"You wrote in your Valentine about the first time we shared our couch in the common room. I figured I should tell you my side of the story, since it's one of my favorites.
"After we came back from the library, I was exhausted. Both physically and mentally, truly. I'd never really studied for anything in my life, and to be thrown into it headfirst by someone like you was definitely…jarring." He cracked a small smile. "But I'd had fun, and I had never felt more prepared about an exam in my life. The Transfiguration test was the first time I got an 'O' on anything at Hogwarts. I still have the study guide you and I made together. I actually brought it with me tonight…" He paused, pulling the faded parchment out of his pocket.
"It's not in the best condition, but I realized pretty quickly that studying in the library with you was something worth doing, and definitely something I enjoyed. So I thought it would make sense to keep some sort of memento from our first study session, and this seemed like the best option.
"Anyway, I was exhausted when I got back to the common room with you, and promptly collapsed on the couch we use all the time nowadays. I thought it would be funny to pretend to fall asleep right in front of you. Clearly you thought it was funny too, because you giggled. Not laughed, but giggled. I'd heard you laugh before, on the Hogwarts Express and a few times after that, but this was the first time you giggled around me.
"Now, any way you laugh is like music to my ears, but hearing you laugh like that was like…the auditory equivalent of cozying up to a fire. I can't really explain it, but it makes my whole body feel all warm and fuzzy. It's such a great sound, when you do that small little laugh, and every now and then I try and coax it out of you to try and make my day.
"After I made you laugh, you started reading next to me on the couch, and after a while you must have thought I'd fallen asleep. But I never did. I heard you get up, and for a moment I thought about calling you back over, because it was nice to have you nearby, hearing the occasional page turn or the different noises you make in your throat while you're reading. But then I felt a blanket flutter over me, and I heard you clamber back onto the couch, curled up in a ball with your book underneath the blanket, and I just knew. I knew you were something special right then and there, Hermione.
"We'd known each other for only a week or two by then, but that was enough time for you to decide that I was worth doing nice things for. Like throwing a blanket over me on the couch, and keeping me company, and helping me study for tests. I know you do those things because you're a nice person, and because you care about me. But you have no idea just how much those small actions mean, Hermione. Nobody in my life had ever been even remotely kind to me like that, until I met you. That's when I knew you were going to be the best friend I'd ever have here at Hogwarts. Or anywhere, really."
Harry sighed, concluding the speech he'd been working on for the entire day. He squeezed Hermione's hand, hoping to return some warmth to the cold, motionless statue that she had become.
"I wish I could stay up here and recount all kinds of happy memories for you, but if not for these extreme circumstances I would have fallen asleep hours ago." He sighed before sliding off the bed. "I'm still not going anywhere, though. I'll be right here." He whispered, giving Hermione's hand one last squeeze. Then, gingerly, he took the study guide from well over a year ago and slid it under Hermione's pillow, just atop the photo album that lay there untouched.
"Well, good night Hermione." He said awkwardly. "I'll be right here." He repeated as he donned his Invisibility Cloak and collapsed into his chair once again.
The Next Night
"Miss me?" Harry smirked as he tiptoed in between the familiar curtains around Hermione's bed. "Thankfully, none of our friends got sent to Azkaban today." He sighed, gently folding the Invisibility Cloak and a dark blue jumper onto the chair before plopping down on the side of Hermione's bed. "See, I bet you'd be rolling your eyes at me if you weren't petrified right now. It's just not the same…" He sighed dramatically before turning back to his best friend.
"So, talking about happy memories the last two nights with you has really done wonders for my mood, so, why not change that formula, right?" He shrugged, placing his hand on Hermione's once again. "I thought I'd skip ahead a bit. Past the troll, because truth be told the memory of you crying in the bathroom isn't a terribly happy one for me.
"I want to talk about the night we smuggled Norbert out of the castle. And then I'll talk about the detention a little bit later, but for now: our super stealth mission." He smirked, and began rubbing circles on the back of Hermione's hand.
"We were on the way back to the castle from Hagrid's hut once we got the dragon. It took all of my concentration to not slip and fall, because Norbert was ridiculously heavy and we had to stay under the Cloak. The whole night was kind of a mess, but looking back it's pretty funny. Anyway, we were on the way back to the castle when you suddenly thanked me for coming to get the troll.
"It was completely out of nowhere, and I honestly had no idea how to react. I thought I could get away with playing it off as a team effort and what-not, but then you said – I'll never forget this, by the way – you said 'You're awfully modest, Harry Potter.'" He grinned at the memory.
"That was the first time you made me blush. I remember being embarrassed because you were catching on that I'd lied about Ron and Neville helping with the troll. But the real reason I was blushing was because of the smirk you had on your face. It sent a whole squadron of butterflies migrating through my stomach. I remember thanking several higher powers that it was almost pitch-dark so I doubt you could have seen my face.
"Anyway, we managed to get to the Astronomy Tower, and then Charlie's friends swooped in and got Norbert out of there. I remember standing there, watching them disappear into the night, when suddenly this wall of force just plowed into me." He let out a small laugh.
"You were so relieved, so happy, and I was too. I remember wrapping my arms around you and staring at the stars above us. For a moment it was like total serenity, and I thought I could have stayed there forever.
"Then…I don't know. I just started thinking about how I was standing on top of the Astronomy Tower, and how I was hugging a girl, and how we were standing under this sea of stars. I got really nervous all of a sudden, and my heart started beating so fast I was certain that you could feel it hammering away.
"But I wasn't nervous because I thought it was wrong, or anything like that." He sighed, squeezing Hermione's hand. "I was just…nervous. It was the most – I don't know the right word – intimate? Maybe just the closest I'd ever felt to somebody. It was new. It was nerve-wracking.
"I thought about pulling away, at the moment. I just didn't know how to act, how to process it." He sighed again, lowering his head. "Now, of course, there's nothing I wouldn't do be hugging you under the stars right now. To feel you squeeze the oxygen out of my lungs. To feel your hair tickling my cheek."
Harry paused, lifting his head to look at Hermione once again. She was perfectly still, her eyes focused straight ahead, blank and unmoving. He pursed his lips as he sat there in silence for a long time, never taking his eyes off of his best friend.
"Of course, we did get caught in the middle of that hug." He chuckled quietly, feeling his mood lift slightly. "We lost a hundred points for Gryffindor that night. All because of a bloody dragon." He grinned. "I don't know about you, but I have no desire to deal with a dragon ever again, after all that.
"Anyway, I brought you something again. I…erm, alright, well now that I think about it it's a bit weird how I went about it. Well, I sort of…I know you have the same jumper you wore that night. I've seen you wear it this year a few times. Not that – like, it's not as if I just stare at your clothes or anything…" Harry buried his face in his hands, feeling his cheeks heat up.
"Blimey, now I kind of hope you can't hear me." He groaned. "Anyway, I asked Lavender to grab it from your things. I've noticed your skin is really cold…honestly I don't know if you can feel cold or not, but I figured it was worth a shot to give you this. I thought…maybe you could wear it like a blanket?" He cringed at his wavering voice. "Right, well, this might be the most embarrassing thing I've ever done." He sighed, slipping off the bed to the chair.
Gingerly, he picked up the blue jumper he'd placed on top of the Invisibility Cloak and unfolded it. He turned back to the bed, and gently laid the sweater over Hermione's torso.
"Well, I hope it at least does something." He whispered, giving Hermione's frozen hand one last squeeze. "I'm going to go to sleep now, Hermione, but I'll be right here." He made himself as comfortable as he could in the chair, enveloping himself in the Invisibility Cloak.
When he woke a few hours later, he carefully took the jumper off of Hermione's unmoving form and folded it up, adding it to the collection of items he'd brought for his best friend underneath her pillow.
The Next Night
"I'm back!" Harry smiled as he ripped his father's cloak off of him, materializing next to Hermione's bed. "I'm sorry I had to take the jumper off, but I didn't want Madam Pomfrey to see it and lose her mind." He smirked, sitting on the edge of her bed once again.
"So, it's really easy to be all sad and gloomy without you during the day. I keep looking at the seat next to me in class, expecting you to be staring at your notes with your eyebrows all scrunched and everything. It sucks." He sighed, feeling a frown manifesting on his face.
"So, I did some logical thinking, which I'm sure makes you very proud, and figured instead of sitting here and moaning about how much I hate not having you around, I'm going to talk about happy things. Every night, just like I have for the past three nights." He grinned, squeezing Hermione's hand affectionately.
"I thought I should tell you about the night we got the Sorcerer's Stone. As much as I hated seeing Voldemort again, and being unconscious for the better part of three days isn't exactly a happy memory, part of that night still ranks very high for me. You can probably guess which part.
"When you handed me the potion, you know, to get me through the fires to get the Stone, I felt so empty inside. Up to that point, I owed everything I'd ever done to you, including not dying in the Forest. We'd been through everything together, and when you told me I had to go on without you it was like you ripped a piece of my heart out. I didn't want to go. I didn't think I could do it without you.
"Then you just crashed into me. It was far and away the fiercest hug you'd given me up to that point. I remember you crying, and I wanted to cry to. I thought for sure that I was going to, until you…well, you know what happened.
"I'm sure that my parents kissed me on the cheek when I was an infant, but I have no memory of that. When you went up on your tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek, I thought for sure that my heart was going to burst. My face got really hot and I thought for a moment that I was just going to melt. I watched you take your antidote and walk through the fire, and I just stood there with my fingers on my cheek for way too long. I forgot about the Stone, and Voldemort, and everything. I'm pretty sure I forgot my own name for a minute." He laughed quietly, shaking his head at the memory.
"Eventually, I wised up. I remembered everything and I forced that potion down and walked through the fires to get to the Stone." He paused, unsure if he should continue. "There's something I haven't told you about that night. After you left, when I was walking through the black flames…" He trailed off, wringing his hands nervously.
"I had this thought race through my head. I don't know where it came from, but it was the last thing I thought before I walked into the chamber with Quirrell and Voldemort. I thought to myself – 'That is not going to be the last time I see Hermione Granger.'" He paused again, returning his hand to Hermione's.
"So…yeah. You're what got me through that fight with Voldemort, I suppose. Even if you weren't there." He concluded, feeling a smile creep across his face. "I still owe it all to you, Hermione."
He sat in silence for a very long time, watching his friend for even the slightest of movements. Nothing. Hermione, the animated girl he'd spent every day with for nearly two years, was now as lively as a rock.
"It's late, Hermione, so I'm going to try and get some sleep. We've got a Transfiguration test tomorrow. I've had to fill in a bit for you, helping our classmates with studying and taking good notes. I don't know how you do it Hermione, I really don't." He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to Hogwarts, I reckon." He added quietly, unthinkingly.
He raised his eyebrows at himself for saying such a thing, before shrugging. He thought it was true, so there was no point in trying to take it back or anything. He gave Hermione's hand one last squeeze before sliding off her bed onto the ground.
"Oh, I almost forgot…" He paused, just before sitting down in his chair. "I figured it's become a tradition by now that I bring you something every night. Those Mandrakes better be ready soon, or people will be looking under your pillow and thinking you're a hoarder." He smirked to himself, before grabbing what he'd brought off the table.
"I checked this out of the library this afternoon. It's the book you found Nicolas Flamel in, and the Sorcerer's Stone. It's the reason we ever ended up in that Potions chamber in the first place. So, in a way, I guess this book is to blame for you kissing me on the cheek and stuff." He added sheepishly.
"The thing is, this book is more or less a thousand pages, and putting it under your pillow just seems cruel, so, erm, I'm going to put it in this drawer in your bedside table, if that's alright. Hopefully I'll remember it's here when Madam Pince asks me to bring it back." He smirked again. Quietly inching the drawer open, he placed the book inside before sliding it shut once again.
"Good night, Hermione." He whispered, wrapping himself up in the Invisibility Cloak once again and sitting down in his chair. "I'll be right here."