He lay in the grass as a soft wind whispered across him. There was innumerable smells carried on that wind, as well as the rustle of the tree that was just a few feet away. The tree's shadow danced as the wind wicked through the leaves, and he sighed ever so slightly. The sky was the bright blue that could only be seen during those perfect spring days, a blue that was marred by just a few thick, fluffy clouds. And of course the sun. A bright, spot of yellow happiness.

The thick wool of his outer cloak was bunched slightly beneath him, and his bag was situated under his head, providing him a slight, though hard, pillow to lay on. The happy sound of birds echoed through the area, competing with the breeze for background noise.

He was content. That would probably be the best way to describe it. There was no true joy in his chest, and by no stretch of the imagination could he describe himself as happy. But at the same time, that overwhelming ache of disgust at his fellow students had finally unclenched itself from his chest. He had not forgiven them for their assumptions earlier in the year, but it was no longer such an immediate driving force behind his emotions and feelings.

And even if it was, there was something about spring days just like this that made it nearly impossible to hold onto those harsh, demanding, ugly emotions.

He gave another sigh, and continued to watch the clouds as the lazily drifted by.

He did not know how long he lay there, silently watching the clouds before he noticed it. What it was, was a new smell; one that had intruded into his awareness. One that had bled into his sense of contentment, a smell that heightened it, while at the same time generated a new twist of apprehension and anxiety in his gut. It was a mixture of smells, a combination that was unique and immediately recognizable: vanilla and strawberries and oddly enough, the slight tang of India Ink. He blinked, and shifted slightly, to see Hermione laying out on the ground next to him. Her outer robes laid out on the ground as a blanket, much the same way his had been. His eyes flickered across her school uniform: the simple white oxford button-down shirt, the dark gray penny skirt that extended just to her knees, her stockings and a pair of leather mary-janes completed the outfit. He had never told her, but he found her obscenely adorable in her school uniform.

He watched her as she watched the sky. The silence twisted around them, heavy and expectant. He did not know what he could say to her. How he could break out from that weight of silence. Nor did he even know if he wanted to. If she wanted him to.

She lifted her arm and stretched out her hand. He followed that arm, and watched her fingers as they splayed out against the sky and the sun. Thin, graceful fingers with small blobs of a pink on each of their tips. They appeared slightly pointed, even though he knew that she kept her fingernails trimmed close in an effort to keep from biting on them.

The sun and wind seemed to kiss her fingers, and he heard her sigh slightly.

"Live, then, and be happy, beloved children of my heart, and never forget, that until the day God will deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is contained in these two words, 'Wait and Hope.'"

He blinked, and frowned. He could feel the twist of emotions in the slightest of scowls on his face, and he focused once more on the clouds in the sky.

"What?"

She chuckled slightly. Not quite a full laugh, but infinitely more than the giggles that her dorm mates were so often prone to. "It's my favorite quote. Alexandre Dumas wrote it in the Count of Monte Cristo. It's about human wisdom, and the simple fact that in the end, no matter what, all we can do is wait and hope."

She lowered her hand, and as it fell, it landed onto his. Her fingers threaded into his, and that was bright bit of warmth and joy in his otherwise content world. It was an odd feeling; like a single splash of color in a black and white photograph, or maybe a really strong taste when your sinuses are all clogged up and stuffy. He was not quite able to describe it, he lacked the words the comprehension. He just knew that it was an odd counterpoint, one he was unused too. Usually his counter points like that were dark things, in horrible settings.

He just knew he did not want to let her hand go.

"And what if I can't wait? What if I fear there is nothing to hope for?"

Again that slight, amused chuckle.

"It is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succor of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule."

He blinked as he considered what she had said. He knew where that one had come from. After all, she had given him all three books in the Lord of the Rings for Christmas, and he was not going to disappoint her by not reading them.

"So you're saying that I may have to stand and fight, but that I'm still doing it on the hope of making the world better than it is currently?"

There was a slight movement of the arm and shoulder that was pressed up against his, and he was not quite certain when she had moved so close that their shoulders were effectively joined. "I've given you books for you to read for years, they're all books that I've read and have impacted me and made me think. And I'd hope they'd make you think as well. If that's what you've taken from it, then that's the lesson you needed to learn at this time."

He snorted in amusement. "Is everything a lesson to you?"

"The best thing for being sad is to learn something," She began quoting, even as her voice was twisted with a wry bitterness. "That's the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honor trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then - to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn."

He frowned at the bitterness in her voice, and squeezed her hand gently. He shifted his head until he could look at her face; and saw the exhaustion and sadness and loneliness there. The deep melancholy that seemed to twist at her very soul. It was a lance through his chest, that she could look that defeated and alone. He expected himself to be like that. After all, he had no family, and in truth the only real friend he had was the girl next to him. But she was everything he was not. She had a family, and she was so brilliant at everything she put her mind to.

Before he could question her further, she sighed.

"That's a newer one, though it explains so much about me. Just so you know, it's from The Once and Future King. I've always been smart. I was actually scheduled to take my A-Levels the year we started here. I was just so much smarter than everyone around, that none of the other kids knew how to interact with me. And I had no way to know how to interact with them. And those who were in the same grade as me, they... well, they all thought I was just a freaky little kid. At best I was treated like some kind of mascot. But never as a peer. Never as a friend.

"So, I learned and I learned. I was praised when I got good grades, when I tried hard. So that's what I did. Which of course meant that no one else wanted to talk to me or have anything to do with me, because I was so smart. I learned the hard way that children could not be trusted, that the were mean and did not understand. That's why I trusted adults so much. They're the only ones who ever did anything for me.

"And then... and then I got my Hogwarts letter. A way to start over. To start at the same level as all the other children, to maybe, possibly have a friend. And then those first two months, I tried and I tried and nothing worked, so I fell back into the old patterns of focusing on the only place where I was getting any type of positive interaction.

"Then there was that Halloween. When I overheard Ron bad mouthing me, it was just one straw too many. I think I broke and I ran away. I wanted my parents, I wanted to be accepted, I just... I didn't want to be here anymore."

Pain lanced through him at her description of those events. Even if she glossed over his own hand in what had happened. He did not want to know, but could not help but ask. "At Hogwarts?"

He could feel her head shake in denial. "No. Just here. Being alive. I... I wanted it to all end. To not have to deal with the teasing and the pain and I was.. I did not want to be alone all the time."

His breath caught in his chest. A sharp agony that he had only felt once before, during those weeks when she was petrified in the infirmary. Those weeks when he was missing her so much that it was a literal ache in his chest.

"I..." His voice trailed off. He did not know what to say. What he could say. Or even how to say what he was feeling.

She seemed to nestle even closer to him. "And then you were there. You came for me, and you've been there with me ever since. You've been my friend and the one person outside of my parents that I could always count on. I had never known that someone my age could be that for me."

"So, in the end, we have to struggle and overcome what we can, and for the rest we wait and we hope."

"Other people will tell you other things, but to me, that's what makes sense."

"So, what do we hope for?"

"Love, Harry."

"Love? I'm not sure I know what that is. The Headmaster seems to think my mum's love had something to do with what happened to Quirrel back in first year, but he never bothered explaining what that meant. And I know I never got to experience it growing up. I would not call how Verrnon and Petunia treated me as love. I don't think how they treated Dudley or each other was love either. I... I just don't know."

"Different people think love is different things. My favorite quote about love is actually by Bruce Lee."

"The kung-fu guy?"

This time, she did giggle. It was a sound that he had rarely heard, but found distinctly delightful all the same. Maybe that was because of the sheer rareness of her giggle.

Yes," she replied after a moment. "The kung-fu guy. He said, 'Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable.'"

"So, that's how you see love?"

There was silence for a handful of heartbeats. Then she shook her head. A movement which made the smell of vanilla and strawberries more powerful for a moment, before another breeze came in and snatched most of the smell away. He blinked at the realization that he did not want that to happen; he wanted to continue to smell her.

"No. I don't think that's quite how I see it. I... I like the romantic concept of that quote, but... It's close to how my parents explained it to me though not exactly what they expressed."

"How so?"

"It's like this. Love is a choice. It's a decision and an action and something that someone does. So many people and books talk about true love this and true love that, or love at first sight, like it's an emotion and fickle and can change with the weather. But I don't think it's that. I think those are lust and like and a host of other emotions. But they're not love. Love is both an verb and a noun. It's shown in the way we act, and describes the reason we act that way.

"Love... love is. Love is doing something with someone just because. It's helping them when you're tired and would rather be asleep. It's being there for another person no matter what. It's waking up in the morning, and saying to yourself that I want to be with that person. And doing it automatically, without thought or prompting. It's putting their needs above your own. Even if those needs might hurt your. It's not something that you can sit back and expect to receive. It has to be earned and fought for. Every day. It's... it's not a matter of telling someone, 'I love you' so much as its a matter of finding that person and proving it. Every day, and at every opportunity. Love is an action, everything else... that's just words."

Silence settled around them, as he considered her words. As he applied her words to how she treated him. To how he treated her. He thought and he considered, and he realized that he was no longer just content. He was happy now. There was a subtle, but persistent sense of joy that twisted in his chest. A change wrought by the conversation with her. By the simple pleasure of basking in her presence. And he wondered why she had sought him out in the first place. What force had driven her to find him.

The sun took that moment, to swing out from behind the clouds, and shine down on them even brighter for a brief moment. He blinked, and realized that he was still watching her, and finally noted that she had turned her head to watch him as well. Her eyes were edged slightly with tears, but there was a soft, almost decadent smile twisting her lips.

A smile he could not help but return.

"Just words, huh?" He whispered the words, not certain why. But he felt, he knew, that there was something there. Something ephemeral and almost in reach. Something he wanted to grab and never let go.

For a brief moment, her smile widened, before settling down again.

"Yes," she replied, her voice also dropped down into a husky whisper. "Just words. But sometimes, girls like to hear those words anyways."

He chuckled lightly, and leaned forward. Absently, he noted that she was leaning in towards him as well.

And at that moment, Ron's voice echoed around the area, loud and harsh and demanding. A sound totally at odds to the feeling that Harry had been chasing. "Harry! Hermione! Oi! Where'd you two go?"

And with that, Hermione twitched back away from him. A blush flared across her cheeks, and she twisted away from him, hiding the view away from him, and the direction that Ron was coming from. Harry knew that the moment was broken. Shattered somehow and someway that he could not name or define or even know how he recognized. He just knew that it had slipped through his fingers, and that his world was less now for that fact.

He blinked, as he watched her. She sat up and called out. "Over here, Ron."

Harry sighed, as his other friend crested the ridge they had been hiding behind. Dark emotion flickered over the other boy's face for just a moment, before they lightened to a slightly forced smile. If someone had not been looking for it, if someone had not been raised that any shift in emotion could be a danger, they would have missed it or maybe dismissed it as their imagination. Harry may not know what love was, but he knew jealousy and anger and a host of other things which the Dursley's would turn towards him. Emotions that would often lead to beatings or time locked away in the cupboard under the stairs. He had learned early to watch for those things, and to ensure those emotions were never turned towards him.

"What you two doing hiding here?"

Hermione's voice was tense with something. "We were just talking, Ronald."

Ron made a rather rude noise of disgust. "Well, come on, Harry, why don't we go play chess?"

He glanced towards Hermione, and noticed that she appeared skittish for some reason. Like she wanted to escape. To run. Before he could comment on that, she was standing, and had her bag in one hand and her cloak in the other. She did not look at either of them; an action that confused Harry for some reason. "I need to go to library. I'll see you boys later."

Then she was gone.

Now, he felt neither content nor happy. He was confused and torn and just did not know.

He heard Ron sigh slightly, and then saw the other boy glance at him. "I'm going to marry that girl some day."

Pain twitched at his chest at that pronouncement. He wanted to say something, to deny that as illogical and nonsense. But he found that he had nothing to say, could say nothing. Rather he just gave a confused shake of the head.

"Anyways, come on, I've got the chessboard set up, and I'll spot you a rook and a knight this time."

Harry knew there was no point in arguing. The other boy would just continuing asking and asking, until Harry finally gave in. And since he knew where Harry was, there was no further hope in trying to regain that feeling of contentment. It was almost instinctive that he knew that without Hermione around, there was no reason to even try for that feeling of happiness.

Slowly, ignoring the rambling Quidditch commentary of his companion, he gathered up his things and began the long trek back to the common room.