Chapter 6

Harry did know her well, though perhaps he didn't quite realize the main reason she waited to eat her laal maas by herself. Although Hermione loved the heat and the oddly pleasant sensation of pain that could come with it, which she knew could release endorphins and give a sort of natural "high," the spice inevitably caused her eyes to water and her nose to run excessively, making her a bit self-conscious when eating in front of others. Not to mention the occasional bout of unexpected hiccoughs.

She settled back on the sofa, leisurely taking well-paced bites of her food with another glass of wine while she read some more of her book. After consuming most of the rest of the container, she devoured a few gulps too quickly. The expected reactions were triggered, but Hermione now found herself without anything to wipe her face. Harry had taken away all of the trash and left her with no more disposable napkins. Needing to wipe her eyes and especially her nose, she quickly headed to his desk, searching for a tissue. The container on the top of his desk was empty, though, not filled again since the move.

But she knew Harry typically kept a couple packets of extra tissues in his desk. Upon opening the top drawer, she was shocked to find he had actually maintained a lot of the organization she had imposed on his things in the past, but there were no tissues where she expected them. Becoming increasingly desperate, she continued searching until she eventually found them in one of the lower drawers.

Happy to finally wipe her face, she pushed the drawer closed but was surprised when it didn't quite shut properly. She bent down to take a closer look and realized that the bottom drawer below it was a bit crooked, off of its track slightly. Harry must have jostled it while moving the desk into its final position, she thought. She couldn't leave the drawer like that: her somewhat obsessive personality kicked in and she needed everything to line up properly.

With a bit of force, she managed to get the bottom drawer open and back in its track. But as she did so, she noticed something odd. The drawer was quite short, several inches shorter than the others. Hermione never paid much attention to this before, but it made her curious enough to pull it back out and examine it more closely.

There appeared to be a panel behind it, near the back of the desk, so she removed the drawer and discovered a door on the panel. When it was opened, it revealed a small safe that had been built into the desk.

No wonder this thing is so bloody heavy, she thought, contemplating the thick steel that presumably encased some hidden treasure of Harry's.

It was all so odd that he never mentioned this. She'd have to ask him about it when he came back from his shower. Shrugging, she began to place the drawer back in, but stopped for a moment.

A puzzle had presented itself, and Hermione found it difficult to resist. What could Harry be storing in there? Why wouldn't he have told her about it? They were best friends, and to her knowledge, they never had any secrets.

Pulling the drawer back out, she examined the safe more closely. It had a simple combination lock with a circular dial numbered from 0 to 99. It would likely have three numbers, and the range would be perfect to encode a date, Hermione thought. Harry wasn't the type to obsess too much over security, so he'd probably choose a meaningful date, though not something as obvious as his birthday. Maybe her birthday? She smiled—that would be funny, wouldn't it? But he didn't tell her about this safe, so that seemed unlikely.

No, it would have to be an important date to Harry. The date Voldemort was defeated? No, that would be too obvious. Even Harry would know that anyone would guess that date. It would have to be something more personal. Maybe the date of his first Quidditch victory? He certainly had loved Quidditch. She had to think back to that exact date, and actually tried that combination first, but it didn't work.

She was increasingly intrigued and wanted to crack the code. What was Harry's most personal and memorable day? She thought back and remembered him saying that the happiest day in his life was when he became a wizard and got away from the Dursleys. So, perhaps his very first day at Hogwarts? No, that didn't work either. And, reflecting, that would probably be too obvious too.

But that wasn't quite what Harry said, was it? It was the first day he found out that he was a wizard that had been the happiest day in his life. Harry had told her the story of his birthday that year and how Hagrid had shown up and taken him away. Carefully dialing in the three numbers including the last two digits of the year, she pulled the lever, and the safe door opened.

Hermione now hesitated, though. She felt a bit of a thrill solving this puzzle and congratulated herself for knowing Harry so well, but now she was about to pry into something private, something he clearly had decided not to tell her about. She could just wait until he came back and ask him… but curiosity got the better of her again. Just a little peek couldn't hurt.

The door of the safe swung open; inside the tiny interior, she saw a few stacks of galleons. She chuckled to herself at her mundane discovery. Perhaps this was just a bit of money he stored at home for an emergency, and here she was thinking it was some great mystery. Except on the one side, there was a stack oddly bulging out a bit on the bottom.

Pulling out the pile of galleons, she found a small fabric-covered box behind them. There was only one item she knew likely came in a box like that, and temptation got the best of her. Soon enough, she had opened it and found herself staring at a ring, obviously a type of engagement ring.

Her eyebrows raised a bit in surprise. Harry had bought a ring? Presumably it had been for Ginny, as she couldn't imagine things had ever progressed far enough with Gwyn or Anna. Why wouldn't he have told her he was considering such a step, though? As she contemplated the ring, she found herself smiling again at the style. It was designed like an antique, but looked brand new, with several small stones around the central one, and some filigree that created a lovely geometric pattern—subtle and not overly ostentatious. While Hermione loved the appearance of it, this certainly wasn't the sort of ring Ginny would expect. All of Harry's girlfriends would likely desire a much larger, more modern and gaudy central stone to show off to their friends, to demonstrate how they were chosen by the Boy Who Lived. Harry obviously didn't know how to pick out a ring to fit Ginny's personality anymore than he understood how to keep any of his relationships going.

She wondered why he still kept it, but figured he probably didn't know what to do with it. Maybe he thought he'd use it one day when the right person came along. In any case, she thought that Harry would likely be done with his shower in a few minutes, so she put the box into the safe and slid it toward the back.

It was only then that she realized something even more strange. The back of the small safe appeared bent, just a little. Feeling back in the dark cabinet, she was surprised to find a tiny tab. When she pressed it, the interior back of the safe sprung forward slightly. A false back wall? Harry had a hidden compartment within the safe?

Now intensely curious, she pulled it open and saw it was a very narrow space, perhaps half an inch deep. And it contained only one item: a folded slip of parchment.

What on earth could Harry be hiding in a secret compartment within a safe behind a hidden panel behind a drawer in his desk? One sheet of parchment?

Having gone this far, she couldn't resist having a look. But when she unfolded the top of the sheet, her eyebrows scrunched down as she began to read:

My soul its secret has, my life too has its mystery,
A love eternal in a moment's space conceived;
Hopeless the evil is, I have not told its history,
And she who was the cause nor knew it nor believed.

Hermione looked up with a bit of shock. Harry... her Harry—with a secret love? A "love eternal," even? She almost had to laugh at the phrase, as she smiled to herself. While Harry was many things, Hermione had never imagined him as a lovesick romantic. He was notorious for forgetting about important events in his relationships, even birthdays and Valentine's Day. The only person's birthday he seemed to consistently remember was hers, something she took as a point of pride. While he could be thoughtful at times, he rarely was overly demonstrative with her or anyone else. The fact that he made her a priority sometimes made her realize he really did appreciate her as a best friend.

Still, the evidence of Harry's secret romance was staring her in the face, his careful writing almost calligraphic with its precision and the few little flourishes. It was clearly his handwriting—she knew it better than anyone's—but he must have spent hours perfecting this. From the little details of the script, she'd guess he wrote this maybe late fifth year or sixth year at Hogwarts. She remembered his sprawling unmannered hand from all those days helping him with his homework in his younger days. He wouldn't have been able to attain the control to make this so… well, it was actually kind of beautiful, she thought.

She glanced at the folds in the parchment, with the darkening—perhaps from perspiration?—and curling around the edges. Had he carried this around with him? For how long? Was it… could it really be some silent confession? The poem said he hadn't "told its history," which he certainly hadn't—if Harry confided in anyone, it would have been Hermione. And by the look of the paper, the poem had never made it to its target, for surely he would have torn it up if it had been rejected. He wouldn't be storing it close, hidden away in his personal desk.

Now intensely curious, Hermione read on:

Alas! I shall have passed close by her unperceived,
Forever at her side, and yet forever lonely,
I shall unto the end have made life's journey, only
Daring to ask for naught, and having naught received.

Hermione felt her eyes grow slightly moist from the sentiment. That last line was so poignant, so awful. Could he really have lived in such misery, silently pining after some girl that Hermione wasn't even aware of? And "unto the end" of "life's journey"—had Harry felt this way perhaps even as he made his way to Voldemort in the forest? Could he actually have gone off to his expected death having never told this girl how she was apparently first on the list of those he loved? The very thought of that nearly made her weep.

Given the cadences and word choices, Harry couldn't have come up with these lines himself. It must have been a poem he found somewhere, she reasoned, but still—he chose these words.

Who was this girl? Certainly not Cho—that relationship had been a disaster, and Harry surely never pined for her crying. Ginny? Hermione unintentionally laughed aloud at that thought. Harry definitely was attracted to Ginny, but Hermione could tell his affection at that time was much more oriented, well… toward the physical, as she'd expect from most teenage boys. And Ginny would probably have scoffed at the sheer degree of beauty and romanticism in this poem. Ginny couldn't even watch Bill and Fleur have a single loving exchange back then without poking fun at them. As stupid as Harry had been around girls, there's no way he could have intended this poem for her.

But the more Hermione considered it, the more it did make some sense for Harry to have some sort of secret attraction. Ginny had had a crush on Harry forever, and Harry's two more recent relationships also seemed to have begun with the women making overtures toward him first. Not that he didn't return their affection, but Hermione realized Harry never seemed to be actively seeking out anyone. Could he really carry a secret torch for some unknown woman?

Who could this girl possibly be? Even if Harry didn't write the words himself, there must be clues that matched the situation. "Passed close by her unperceived"? Hermione gasped—the line might simply imply that this girl didn't give him the attention he craved, but had he spied on this girl, from under the Invisibility Cloak? She found herself shaking her head. No, Harry wouldn't do such a thing. The only people he occasionally seemed to surprise from under the Cloak were her and Ron. Her mind for just an instant took her back to that crazy moment when they broke into the Ministry while on the Horcrux search, and Harry had crept up behind her and whispered in her ear suddenly at the interrogation of Mrs. Cattermole, causing Hermione to jump out of her skin, nearly exposing both of them. He could be such a prat sometimes, she thought, though she was certain he did that as a stupid prank. At the time, she wanted to hex him for it, but now the memory brought a small grin to her face as she shook her head.

The next line of the poem truly had flummoxed her, though: "forever at her side." Harry simply wasn't that close to that many people. Someone else on the Quidditch team? No, none of them made sense. Harry didn't spend much time together at Hogwarts with anyone else that Hermione could recall.

An inspiration caught her—perhaps someone at the Dursleys? A neighbor? She didn't know anything about the people around him there. Was Harry really in love with "the girl next door"? Hermione found herself smiling at the image of little Harry growing up next to a cute girl and never finding the courage to say anything. From what she knew of Harry's life with the Dursleys, she sorely wished that he had some bright figure to bring at least some joy into his life back then.

But Harry would have hinted at such a person, she thought. His attractions toward Cho and Ginny had been completely obvious to Hermione, long before he even seemed to realize it himself. If nothing else, she felt Harry would have mentioned something he looked forward to at the Dursleys.

All of this passed through her mind in a matter of seconds, until she decided she needed to read on. Hermione had been pulled in by the mystery of the safe in Harry's desk, but now her mind was rapidly cycling through the permutations and possibilities, trying to understand how her best friend could have such a deep love for someone that he managed to keep secret from her for so many years...