She watches him in the library through the corner of her eye.
He looks tired today. His green eyes are unusually dull, and his lips form a thin line as he skims through the many books at their table. Instead of his usual complaints about having to do a research paper for Snape, he is silent.
Something's wrong.
Hermione carefully debates whether or not to say anything. She has to make sure she doesn't attack him with questions all at once, (one of her bad habits), as it might make him clam up for days. But she doesn't want vague little hints either. She is sick of him shying away from her.
Making up her mind, she quietly asks him, "Harry, is something bothering you?"
The Boy Who Lived snaps his head up, green eyes shining (yet still so dull) in confusion.
"It's just… you've hardly written anything down for Snape's paper, and we've been here for an hour…" she continues on in a worried yet stern voice she reserves for both Ron and Harry when they aren't doing their work properly.
That's it, Hermione. Stick with the academic route, and you'll be fine.
He looks at her, studying her carefully, but not replying. Hermione's heart skips a beat.
He's hiding something from me, she thinks. A burning, clenching feeling fills her throat and chest when she recognizes his guarded expression.
Harry still says nothing.
Hermione doesn't want to admit it; doesn't want to voice the question that has nagged her for months, but her mouth is opening of its own accord and a voice that sounds weak and frail and so unlike her own pushes itself out.
"If…if I were Ginny… would you tell me?"
Her bushy brown hair (so different from Ginny's beautiful red locks) hangs in front of her eyes and shields her face from his. Still, still he says nothing, and once again, her voice arises unbidden.
"It's never enough. I'm never enough. You talk to Ron and Ginny and even Neville, and they always come through for you, but I just can't seem to…" Her voice cracks here, and she quickly goes to stand up, needing to get away from him and his green eyes that seem to know everything she doesn't.
A flash of movement and his hand has encircled her wrist. She tries to pull away, but his grip is firm and determined.
And in the voice she has grown to love, she hears all the reassurance she needs in three little words.
"It's enough, Hermione."
It's enough.
: Fin :
"Life's greatest happiness is to be convinced we are loved."
- Victor Hugo, Les Miserables, 1862