Harry slammed the door shut behind him and leaned back against it, his eyes wide and panicked. He stared up at Hermione, who was halfway down the stairs, but said nothing.

Hermione opened her mouth to ask him what on earth he was doing pounding on her door at one in the morning and then waltzing in before she had even reached the first floor of her apartment, but something in his expression halted her. This was more than just Harry at his wit's end, which, let's face it, she saw regularly given all the reporters and crazed supporters. No, this had a tinge of the insanity that had consumed him during sixth year. He looked like he had truly lost it.

Hermione opened her mouth again, but this time she didn't begin to accuse.

"Tea?" she asked, resuming her walk down the stairs.

Harry nodded fervently, his mouth curving into a smile. The corners of Hermione's lips twitched, and she led the way into the kitchen. She had only gone to bed an hour ago, and her bed time routine of hot chocolate warmed over the fire meant that the coals in the kitchen were still warm. She reignited them with a flick of her wand and, with another wave, set the kettle to boil.

Harry plonked himself on one of the worn kitchen chairs and sighed. "Thanks, Hermione," he said, the relief in his voice almost painful to hear. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Hermione's mouth twitched further, but there was a hint of sadness to her smile that she did her best to hide. Fortunately, Harry didn't notice. Then again, he never did.

"What happened this time?" she asked, seating herself opposite him at the table and eyeing him carefully.

Harry ran his hands through his hair, the wild look back in his eyes. "They tried to kill her," he said bluntly, his eyes fixed on the chequered pattern of the table cloth. "We're not even together anymore, and they tried to kill her."

Hermione froze. He could only mean Ginny, but she couldn't imagine what they must have done to threaten the life of so capable a witch. But for Harry to be this distressed… they must have nearly succeeded.

Harry began pulling a loose thread from the edge of the table cloth. Almost without thinking, Hermione reached across and stilled his hand with her own. He stopped immediately and looked up at her. The expression in his eyes was so warm, so welcoming, that she started, pulling her hand back as though it were burnt. When she turned back to him the expression was gone, replaced with the same nervous energy of before, and she was almost ashamed to be relieved.

"What did they do?" she asked to fill the silence.

"They poisoned her soap," he answered quietly. "Something so small, in the rush of the change rooms she never thought to check it. It had been safe in her toiletries bag the whole time, so why would she think to check it? Someone on the team must have betrayed her." The anger was back.

"She'll know now," Hermione pointed out. "And if you make your break up public, it's unlikely to happen again."

Harry leaned his head back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. "Is it, though? I thought that by keeping the break up quiet, she wouldn't be hounded by reporters. It seems like no matter what I do, I screw something up for her."

Hermione grabbed his hand again, refusing to look him in the eye this time, and made soothing motions with her thumb. "It will be alright," she promised. "Announce the break up and-"

"But then what if they send her death threats for breaking my heart?" Harry asked drily.

Hermione hadn't thought of that. It was so blatantly obvious that the feeling was mutual that she never considered that people might take it the wrong way. But of course they would.

"Well you'll just have to get a new girlfriend," she said in as light a tone as she could manage, "to prove that you're not the jilted party."

Harry laughed without humor. "The only witch I can think of who would be strong enough to take on those crazies is you, Hermione. Don't suppose you're up for it?"

Hermione kept her gaze resolutely forward, but then something in her gave up. She had spent years wishing Harry would look at her as more than a sister, constantly avoiding his eyes whenever the conversation hinted toward a topic that would not allow her to keep her feelings hidden. Frankly, it was getting ridiculous. She needed to move on.

She snapped her eyes up to meet his and opened her mouth to laugh at his joke.

But instead, she froze. His eyes were on her, and it was like looking in a mirror.

All this time, she had mentally chided Harry for what he didn't notice. Was this what she had been missing every time she looked away?

Hermione Jean Granger, she told herself, you are an idiot.

Something in her face must have shown, because a shocked look passed over Harry's expression.

"Are-" Harry stuttered. "Are you- Would you like-" He stopped, closed his eyes, and tried again. "Hermione, would you go out with me?"

Hermione paused for only a second before leaping across the table into his arms. "Yes," she said quietly, her face pressed into his messy hair. "I will."