A.N.—I do not own Harry Potter or any other affiliate characters or settings.
It was graduation day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Valedictorian Hermione Granger sat on the four-poster bed she had grown to know and love so well for the last time in her life. The graduation ceremony was over. Everyone was supposed to be gathering up their luggage to take down to the waiting carriages. But Hermione was still sitting on her bed, looking out the window, not really seeing anything at all. She did not have a look of melancholy nostalgia that most graduates have when leaving school, but the look of a person fighting a losing battle with herself. The look of a person who has just decided not to do something she should, or to do something she shouldn't. The look is the same. Hermione's current decision fell into both categories.
"Hermione! Hurry up! We're going to miss the train!" a familiar voice called up the stairs.
"Yes, coming!" Hermione said quickly. Pulling herself out her reverie, she signed the parchment laid out on her lap, then folded it into perfect thirds. She quickly scrawled a name on an envelope and slipped the letter inside, magically sealing it so only the person it was addressed to could open it. But instead of tying it to the customary leg on an owl, she slipped it in her bag and headed downstairs for the last time.
"Finally," Harry groaned as Hermione appeared at the foot of the stairs. He instinctively picked up her trunk for her as she led the way out of the common room. Hermione's quietness did not surprise Harry. Ever since Ron's death in the final battle against Voldemort four months earlier, Hermione had gone very quiet. Of course, no one suspected anything but this type of behavior, as Hermione and Ron had been dating since the beginning of their 7th year. Harry and Hermione had grieved together, talked through it with each other, been there for each other, but Harry came out of it alone, leaving Hermione on the other side. Everyone, including Harry, assumed it was just taking Hermione a bit longer to get through. Nothing strange or wrong with that. Only Hermione knew it to be more.
True, it had taken Hermione a bit longer that Harry to come to terms with the loss of their best friend, but for the past two-and-a-half months she had been inwardly grieving Hermione didn't know how long she had been in love with Harry, but she only realized after Ron's death. This was the new idea Hermione had been struggling with since her recognition of her initial loss: What if it had been Harry that died, and neither of them knew how she felt? What if he dies later on, still not knowing? What if he doesn't feel the same way and Hermione loses the last friend she's got in the world?
So Hermione had to make a decision whether or not to let Harry know of her feelings. And Hermione, being a firm believer in the magic of true love, and being the cleverest witch of her age, had a plan.
It was graduation day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Valedictorian Hermione Granger sat on the four-poster bed she had grown to know and love so well for the last time in her life. The graduation ceremony was over. Everyone was supposed to be gathering up their luggage to take down to the waiting carriages. But Hermione was still sitting on her bed, looking out the window, not really seeing anything at all. She did not have a look of melancholy nostalgia that most graduates have when leaving school, but the look of a person fighting a losing battle with herself. The look of a person who has just decided not to do something she should, or to do something she shouldn't. The look is the same. Hermione's current decision fell into both categories.
"Hermione! Hurry up! We're going to miss the train!" a familiar voice called up the stairs.
"Yes, coming!" Hermione said quickly. Pulling herself out her reverie, she signed the parchment laid out on her lap, then folded it into perfect thirds. She quickly scrawled a name on an envelope and slipped the letter inside, magically sealing it so only the person it was addressed to could open it. But instead of tying it to the customary leg on an owl, she slipped it in her bag and headed downstairs for the last time.
"Finally," Harry groaned as Hermione appeared at the foot of the stairs. He instinctively picked up her trunk for her as she led the way out of the common room. Hermione's quietness did not surprise Harry. Ever since Ron's death in the final battle against Voldemort four months earlier, Hermione had gone very quiet. Of course, no one suspected anything but this type of behavior, as Hermione and Ron had been dating since the beginning of their 7th year. Harry and Hermione had grieved together, talked through it with each other, been there for each other, but Harry came out of it alone, leaving Hermione on the other side. Everyone, including Harry, assumed it was just taking Hermione a bit longer to get through. Nothing strange or wrong with that. Only Hermione knew it to be more.
True, it had taken Hermione a bit longer that Harry to come to terms with the loss of their best friend, but for the past two-and-a-half months she had been inwardly grieving Hermione didn't know how long she had been in love with Harry, but she only realized after Ron's death. This was the new idea Hermione had been struggling with since her recognition of her initial loss: What if it had been Harry that died, and neither of them knew how she felt? What if he dies later on, still not knowing? What if he doesn't feel the same way and Hermione loses the last friend she's got in the world?
So Hermione had to make a decision whether or not to let Harry know of her feelings. And Hermione, being a firm believer in the magic of true love, and being the cleverest witch of her age, had a plan.