"Hermione?" came the tentative voice from behind me.
Looking back, I don't even remember thinking about what I was doing. I knew the voice, and why would I ever turn around for that voice? Despite everything, I did the stupidest thing I could ever have done at that moment in time. I turned around.
I'd be standing here with tears running down my face, but I have no more tears to cry. I used them all up.
For the past few weeks, I'd hovered, getting perfect marks in all my subjects, as that was the only thing I had to think about. No relationships, no social life. Ginny had started dating Neville, and they belonged together in the way that only close friends can. Gradually, I'd made myself immune to what I was feeling, to the need for love and for people to talk to. Even so, a part of me still missed the wholeness of having people around me, and most of all, the intoxicating relationship that Harry and I had shared.
Now, as I stand here in the cold, I am taken over by invisible tears.
"Hermione?" Ron had asked quietly.
Not knowing that this response was only to my detriment, I turned at the sound of his voice. If I had have known what I was doing, I would have stopped myself, but I smiled at the fact that someone would direct his attention at me, after so long of being alone. I noticed how nervous he was, and was barely reminded of how long it was since we'd had a proper conversation. I looked him up and down, taking in his figure, his face and his clothes. I raised my eyebrows in questioning, encouraging him to go on.
As he fell into step with me, I watched him. It was late at night; I was headed back towards the Griffindor common room after studying in the library. My friend (how could I have started thinking of him as a friend again so quickly?) watched me as well, and eventually he spoke up again.
"Look, I've noticed you everywhere recently," he began. "Hermione, you are so dedicated, so precise, so gifted and so beautiful."
I stiffened, but said nothing. I blinked back tears of sorrow, and made my second mistake of the day. I stayed by his side, walking close together down icy cold Hogwarts corridors late at night.
He stopped in the deserted corridor and took my hand, bringing me to a halt as well.
"Would you like to come to Hogsmeade with me on Valentine's Day?" He asked sincerely.
I looked away, and sighed. Ron seemed to make his own conclusions as to my answer, putting his arms around me and his finger on the side of my face so I'd turn back to look at him.
"Ron – no, I can't!" I pulled away, probably rougher than I should have.
Shaking my head, freezing cold tears pouring from my eyes, I left Ron standing alone in the corridor.
Days had passed. I stood in the main street of Hogsmeade and had a perfect view of the couples making their way into Madame Puddifoots. They paraded by, oblivious to the lone figure standing just out of sight.
I was contemplating the fact that one of those girls could be me, when I saw a figure walk up and look in the window of the coffee shop. Eventually, he slumped down in the snow against the wall, and covered his face with his hands. Even through the sleet, and through my heavy winter clothes, I could tell who he was. There was no way that I would not be able to recognise the way that he moved, the way he held himself.
I looked at Harry for what could have been seconds, but could also have been much longer. Through his body language, I saw remorse, despair and the reflections of my very own feelings of helplessness, the feeling that the world was over, and ultimately the feeling that something was missing. That was the point at which I would have started to cry, and I probably was on the inside, but the tears just didn't come.
I knew that it was up to me, at this point in time. I was at a crossroads and could choose the exact direction in which I wanted to go. The feeling of being in control was what overwhelmed me; I barely had time to marvel at this remarkable turning point before I was there, in front of him, saying his name.
At the sound of my voice, Harry looked up. The next thing I knew, his arms were around me, unravelling the warm scarf that covered my head.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
I kissed him with heartfelt enthusiasm, taking off his beanie to run my fingers through his hair. He knew he was forgiven. With that, we made our way back up to the castle, his arm around me the whole time.
It was the perfect Valentine's Day. I discovered that I needed no fancy coffee shop, no red roses; all I needed was Harry. I told him so as we sat together in the common room, covered in snow.
"It was terrible on my own," he replied. "Ron was still so angry that he wouldn't talk to me, and I was afraid to make things up with you because I didn't want you to think that I would only love you when I felt like it."
The mention of Ron made me feel guilty. I didn't want him to become jealous and spread twisted rumours, so I told Harry all of what had happened.
"I don't know how I coped without you," I continued softly. I was stroking his hair; I missed its texture and how it wouldn't lie flat. "I don't feel like leaving your side now, Harry. You keep my world turning. What would I ever do if you found someone else?"
I moved my hand down his face, and touched his neck. Harry kissed me again, reciprocating what I had just told him. It was so atypical for me to tell people how I honestly felt, but with Harry it felt like second nature.
We sat there until late into the night, half ignoring and half enjoying the stares of other Griffindors as they came through the common room.
As the day continued to draw to a close, Harry and I fell asleep in a corner of the common room, wrapped around each other – each of us feeling safety in the knowledge that the only one we wanted was by our side, and planning to stay there.
