Chapter 7

Hermione started to speak first, cutting into their comfortable silence. She decided to wait a while to voice her thoughts, thinking that Harry would have wanted a few minutes to appreciate fully the starry spectacle above them.

The truth was that Harry used those few minutes to decide if it were a good idea to tell Hermione about the doubts he was having regarding Ginny, and the certainties that now surrounded his female best friend.

"You had fun tonight, didn't you?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer. She very rarely asked questions she didn't already know the answers to.

Harry didn't admit it immediately. He was feeling too content to speak, in case he said something to ruin the moment. He suddenly didn't trust himself with his own words.

"I love that ridiculous smile of yours," she said. "And I especially love that it's back these days. If I didn't know any better, Harry Potter; I would think that it all has a little something to do with me."

Harry swallowed, his eyes still looking up at the sky. "Well, you are the brightest witch of our generation, Hermione. You would know better, wouldn't you?"

Hermione couldn't stop herself from smiling. The giddiness spread through her unsuspecting body, even making her feel embarrassed. Did he just admit that she was the reason he was smiling; that she was the reason he was so happy?

Harry allowed them to drift into their comfortable silence. It made him feel relaxed. He wasn't tense with worry over his words anymore. This was Hermione. He could talk to Hermione. He could tell her all his thoughts. He could tell her about his feelings.

Hermione bloke the silence first. "Have you ever thought about what you want from life?" she asked, her voice airy and searching.

Harry had to force himself not to look at her, as much as he desperately wanted to. "Not really," he admitted. "It's never really occurred to me that I might survive Voldemort. I don't think I'll get to grow old and maybe have a family and eventually be happy. I don't even think that I deserve to."

She pressed her lips together, making sure she didn't shoot down his thoughts, no matter how preposterous they actually were. He had to know that he, out of anyone she had ever met, deserved all from life.

"I assume you think about it?" Harry prompted.

She decided she would return to his response later. There was no need to attack him with tales of the sort of life she envisioned for him. "All the time," she informed him. "I'm fully aware of the fact that I'm known as a bookworm, a goody-two-shoes, even boring on occasion; but, frankly, I don't care. When I leave this place, Harry; I want to be able to become something so much more than I've even dreamed."

"And you will."

"Thank you, Harry," she quipped. "But it's not even about just doing anything. It's about taking this thing, this unthinkable, magical thing that we've been offered here and doing something valuable and useful with it. I feel like we owe the world that."

"Don't you think you're already doing that now?" he had to ask. "Honestly, Hermione, if you could fail out of Hogwarts, Ron and I would be long gone by now, if it weren't for you."

Hermione ignored his comment. "I think about how it's going to be after we graduate and leave this place. It's going to be different, which will be sad, but I think it's all going to be so very exciting. Aren't you excited by it?"

Harry didn't answer. Wishing for a future was injecting hope into an otherwise horribly predetermined life he was already living. He knew he wouldn't survive what was surely coming. The only way the world – not just the Wizarding one – would be safe would be if Voldemort was dead and never to return. And Harry was fully aware that the only way to do that was if he died himself.

Olivander had predicted it all those years ago. Harry and Voldemort were tethered together in intricate and unspeakable ways. There was surely no way one could live without the other. Harry almost laughed at how boring his life would surely become without the dark forces to keep him occupied. It was already so difficult being a teenager.

"I want to be a mother," Hermione admitted after a while, having realised that Harry wasn't going to respond. "Is that silly? It's probably such a girly thing to say."

Harry didn't dismiss her, like she was sure others would have. "I don't think you're silly. I think you would make a great mother. Strict and no fun maybe, but definitely great."

She laughed out loud. "Oh wow. You're probably the master of turning a compliment into an insult in the same sentence."

"What can I say? I'm talented."

She let out a breath. "Because you're Harry Potter," she said softly.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, you're Harry Potter." This time, she did look at him, turning only her head. "You are already a great wizard, Harry; but you're an even better person. And of course you deserve a future. You deserve the richest of lives, solely because you've already suffered more loss and negligence that any of those prisoners up in Azkaban. And at no fault of your own, might I add. How is it that a perfect, kind, thoughtful, generous boy like you can be punished for being born?"

"Isn't that the right question to be asking?"

"Stop," she said strongly. "Don't dilute what I'm trying to say with humour, Harry. You are allowed to dream and have hopes. This is what I want for you; what everyone who loves you wants for you."

There was that word again. "Because you love me," he whispered.

"Exactly," she continued, just as strongly. "Now I know that the rest of your life looks dark, and maybe for a while it will be, but I believe that we can make our destinies." She paused. "Okay, no, now that definitely sounds silly."

"Let us take a moment to acknowledge that you were the one who said it."

"Gosh, you are properly the worst."

Harry propped himself up on his one elbow. "You know, every time you say things like that; it hurts my feelings," he said playfully.

"Well, then, it turns out that I'm not the only girl in this castle who doesn't care how you feel," she just said, the words basically slipping out without her consent.

Harry's face dropped, going pale almost instantly. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Hermione rushed. "That came out all wrong."

Harry was more curious as to from where the words had come. "What does that even mean?"

"What?" she asked, trying to buy herself some time to formulate a proper response. Why had she said that?

Harry sat up fully, his eyes square on hers. "What does that mean, Hermione?"

Hermione sat up as well, coming to a decision. "I care about you, Harry; you know that I do, but I just, well, I, umm, I don't think that Ginny is the girl for you."

He frowned. "Excuse me?"

She swallowed, trying desperately to think of a way to avoid this topic of conversation.

"Hermione?" he questioned, a certain fear of betrayal clouding his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

She sighed. "I think Ginny knows."

His heart literally stopped. He felt it actually stop beating in his chest for a shocked moment. "Knows… what?"

"That you like her."

Harry blinked uncontrollably a few times, wishing she had said something different. "But, umm, no, how? No. Why? What?" Then he came to a realisation. "How long have you known?"

"It was time to be truthful. "Luna and I overheard her talking to Parvati yesterday morning," she started to explain. "It's why we missed breakfast. Umm, Ginny ended up saying something about how inconvenient it was having two guys after her; how she wasn't something to own and how she didn't even have feelings for either one anyway."

Harry just stared at his best friend, unable to comprehend fully what he was being told. "Why didn't you tell me?" he eventually asked, sounding more broken than she had ever heard him.

"I wanted to," she told him. "Honestly, I did. I just, I didn't want to hurt you. And I didn't want to ruin your evening either. And I wasn't even sure how to anyway, or if it was the right thing to be doing. I'm no good at this kind of thing, Harry. I even spoke to Luna about it and she says –"

He cut her off. "That's what you spoke to Luna about?" he asked, anger seeping into his tone. "That. My so-called love life. Oh wow, well, thank you, Hermione," he snapped. "How on earth did Ginny even find out?"

She read the look on his face. "I did not tell her, I swear. I haven't told a single person. And I didn't even mention your name to Luna."

He frowned again, confusion deepening it. "Then why did she say no?"

Hermione knew she couldn't answer that question. Definitely not. So she bit her bottom lip and waited for him to calm down.

"You know the reason, don't you?"

Still, she said nothing. She had to think of something to say. Anything.

"Why won't you tell me?"

"It's personal."

"More personal than my best friend conveniently forgetting to tell me that the girl I liked knew all about it?"

Hermione tilted her head. "Liked?"

Harry frowned again, more at his own use of words this time. "Slip of the tongue," he muttered.

She chose to believe him. "And yes, more personal than that."

Harry stared at her for a long time. He was mad, but he wasn't sure it was justified. He wouldn't be sure he would know how to tell Hermione that Ron knew she liked him. How does that conversation even begin? And he was probably mad at the fact that Ginny knew and was hoping he would do nothing about it. That hurt, but not nearly as much as the thought that Hermione had willingly kept something from him. They were better friends than that.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I really am. I promise, one day, I will tell you, but I'm certain that neither of us is ready."

That merely confused him even more, but he still said: "Okay." He was ready now.

"Okay?" she sounded, deftly surprised.

He nodded once. "You are my best friend. The closest person I have in this whole place. If you're not the one I trust with all that I am, then I wouldn't even begin to know who is."

For the first time in her life, Hermione had the incredible urge to lean forward and kiss him. It surprised her more that anything. Clearly, her talk with Luna hadn't helped. These feelings she had, rumbling in the pit of her stomach, were bound to erupt dangerously. And nobody was ready for that. At least Luna was right about that.

"What I want to know is how Ginny found out," Harry continued, clearly oblivious to the short circuit going on in Hermione's brain. "Did she ever actually say my name?"

"Excuse me?"

"When you overheard her, which is actually called eavesdropping, by the way; did she ever actually say that one of the two guys after her was me?"

Hermione thought about that for a moment. "Umm. No, not that I recall."

"Then she might not have even been talking about me," he offered.

"It is possible," she found herself saying.

Harry appeared relieved. "Then she'll never have to know," he mumbled to himself. Then, louder, so she could hear: "It's hard enough knowing about Dean. Now there's someone else to contend with." He meant to make it sound like a joke, but it came out all wrong. Something was happening again, and he did not like it one little bit.

Harry waited another minute before he lay back down. Hermione didn't join him. Her own mind was spinning. The boy was right. For all she knew, Ginny had been speaking about someone else. What amazed her was how calm he was.

Hermione started to worry that she was projecting. It would explain a lot. Was this all just transference of feelings to Harry, because Ron was taken? It was a horribly disgusting thought but it was something she had to consider.

Harry broke their silence. He had a burning question to ask, which could possibly lead to more questions. More revelations. Even decisions. "Do you really think Ginny isn't the girl for me?"

Hermione had to think about her response very carefully. Saying exactly what she thought she wanted to say was definitely not an option. "It doesn't matter what I think. It's what you think, Harry."

"What you think does matter to me," he told her. "I know you, and you know me. Am I crazy to think this is what I want? Her?"

"You're not crazy, Harry. What you want is what you want. All I want is for you to be happy."

He sighed. "That's just the thing. I'm not entirely sure what I want anymore."

"What do you mean by that?"

Harry sat up again so their eyes could meet. He made his decision. Something had to be said. It was now or never. That's what it was. That was how he felt. "We've been spending all this time together…"

"Indeed we have."

"And I don't know if I'm getting confused or this is how I've always felt, but I never want what we've got going on over here to end."

Her brow creased.

"I don't mean to overwhelm you," he said, sensing some distress. "I'm just feeling a lot of feelings. About you, Hermione. You are, at present, the most important person in my life, and I don't want that ever to change. Nobody understands me like you do, and I wouldn't want anyone else to. I've been thinking about this, and I don't know what to make of it. I'm scared of losing you, Hermione. I would never survive that. So, despite myself, I'm happy that Ron and Lavender are together." He paused to gather his bearings again. "That's probably not what you want to hear. This probably isn't either but I have to tell you that I can't imagine my life, any life, without you."

Hermione blinked a few times. She wasn't sure what exactly he was saying and she refused to allow herself to believe that he was actually saying what she desperately wished he was saying. "Harry?" she whispered.

"I don't want things to be weird," he said.

"I don't either," she agreed.

"We're friends."

"We are."

"We want to stay that way."

Hermione hesitated. "We do," she eventually said.

"It doesn't have to be weird. It's just something I had to tell you."

Hermione knew that that was a tall ask. It was already weird. There was this thing between them that they acknowledged but weren't brave enough to explore. Was it because he thought she liked Ron? Should she tell him that she was just as confused as he was? What could ever flourish from a whole mess of confusion? So she said nothing. Why risk their friendship over so much uncertainty?

Right?

Right.