Shoving his trunk onto the train, Harry allowed himself a small smile. It was nice to be going back to Hogwarts. He liked the Burrow, enjoyed his time there, but Hogwarts was home. He couldn't imagine what he would do next year after he graduated. Oh, he'd become an auror, of course, just like he'd always dreamed, and yet… he wouldn't be at Hogwarts. Coming here at the beginning of his first year had been the biggest change of his life, but graduating would very nearly match it.

He forced himself to listen to what Ron was saying. "…poncy git, thinks he's so good…" and sure enough, Malfoy was standing a few feet down the platform, talking in a low voice to Crabbe and Goyle. After six years, names were unnecessary when talking about Malfoy; adjectives sufficed, and cusses worked even better. Next to him, Hermione was standing quietly. Something had happened to her over the summer, he was certain. She had come to stay at the Burrow for the last week of vacation, and most of the time she had been quietly distracted, staring off into space and jerking suddenly when someone addressed her. She had that look again, the one she had had so often lately, and she wasn't even admonishing Ron for his language. But she would tell him if there was anything seriously wrong, wouldn't she? She was his friend, and there was nothing he couldn't tell her, and have her be sympathetic or understanding about. And, Merlin knew, he tried his best to be there for her, although in his defense, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, (sometimes) hero of the wizarding world, was still only a teenage boy. His own emotions were a strange and uncharted landscape that he wasn't too keen on exploring; Hermione's were well outside his realm of understanding. But he tried, really he did.

He looked around for Ginny, but she seemed to have already disappeared onto the train. With Ron's blessing, he'd begun, well, perusing the littlest Weasley over the summer. That wasn't really the right word, of course, but there was no other way to really describe it. He tried his best to be sweet to her, show her that he cared, all those other things Hermione's letters on the subject had advised… and when he'd finally managed to get her alone and had the courage to try and kiss her, she'd pushed him away. Not hard, he reminded himself, his ego needing any boost he could give it, and although she'd been nice about it, she was also firm. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I just can't deal with having a boyfriend right now." He'd offered to wait, and she'd sighed, her thin, delicate shoulders slumping a little from that perfect, proud posture she'd held them in ever since her fourth year. "I waited for you for years, Harry. You don't want to make the same mistake I did."

When did she grow up, he wondered. More importantly, who was it he had fallen in love with: the sweet, quiet little Ginny, or the beautiful, independent one? He suspected it was the latter, and felt a small twinge of regret. Maybe if he'd been paying attention before, he would have had a chance with her.

Almost the moment they were settled in a compartment, Hermione got up and locked the door behind the three of them. To Harry she looked, if possible, even paler than before, and her eyes had a wide, worried quality to them that he wasn't sure he liked. She stood facing them, her hands clasped in what would have been a serene posture if Harry hadn't been able to see how white her knuckles were.

"Eh, 'Mione, what's up?" Ron demanded, looking up from the tattered quidditch magazine that had occupied his attention since they left the Burrow earlier that morning.

The girl took a deep breath, obviously steeling herself for what she was about to say. "Ron, Harry, you know I went to France this summer for that magic convention." Ron made a bored noise, but Harry just nodded. Obviously, this was something Hermione was not looking forward to telling them. "Of course, I wasn't the only one there from Hogwarts."

"I remember," Harry said. "Dumbledore sent one from each House."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, well, of course he sent Malfoy from Slytherin and…"

"Slimy git!" Ron interjected.

"Well, anyway, he…"

"What did the sodding bastard do?" Ron demanded.

Hermione went very red. "He asked me out," she said quietly.

For Harry, it seemed that all sound had suddenly disappeared from the world. It was a bit like when he had faced the Horntail, back in his fourth year, and the entire world had dimmed away except for what he was focused on. He stared at Hermione, whose face was now alternating between bright red and very pale indeed. As realization hit him, he fell off his seat. "You said yes?" he croaked in disbelief.