Every consecutive day, she would go to the café bookstore as she always did, but in addition, she would sit at the table, silently hoping that he would show up. And he mostly did.

She did most, if not all the talking.

She soon found out that the Boy-who-Lived wasn't the most socially warm person in the world, but neither was Hermione.

But soon enough, as he continually showed up everyday and sat across from her, Hermione began to assume that he secretly enjoyed her attention and interest in him.

She often asked him about basic things that did not encroach much on his personal life, but his answers were often short and frank with little to no elaboration. Hermione became used to it.

"Are you on summer holiday?" She asked him one day, although she knew it was a stupid question. The truth was she only asked it because she didn't want to ask about what she really wanted to know bluntly.

"Just ask." He responded, in his usual flat tone.

"Why did you get expelled?" She asked quickly.

It was no secret. It made headlines in the Wizarding world when the Boy-who-Lived got expelled from Durmstrang Institute.

"Didn't you read the headlines?" He questioned, then continued, "I apparently killed someone," as if we were talking about yet another mundane answer.

"I don't believe everything I read." She rebutted, and something changed slightly in Harry's countenance.

"If you actually killed someone, you would be in Azkaban. That's where they usually put murderers, right?" Hermione continued. She wasn't sure if there was a wizarding prison in Norway.

"Murdering and killing are two different things." His tone was low and it held a slight hesitation.

Hermione sighed and leaned back in her chair. She recalled reading about the story at school when it came out. It was inescapable since everybody, especially the Slytherins, some of who knew and grew up with Harry Potter, could not stop whispering about it.

It brought up memories of her school life before elementary school, the bullying that occurred before she changed. If she committed suicide because of her tormentors would it be them that killed her?

But the more malignant part of her took it as extra confirmation that she did the right thing by not disclosing her blood status, and just blending in.

"Do you regret what you did?" It was a strange way to ask the question when all she wanted to know was if he felt responsible for the boy who decided to end his life.

Harry didn't answer that question, and Hermione didn't know if that was a good sign or not. She assumed the latter but didn't want to push it.

Soon, the sun was going down on Hermione's last day in Oslo. The overcast weather in addition to this fact made Hermione's mood not great. She didn't know how Harry considered her after all the time they spent together, but Hermione surely considered him as a friend, although she didn't really have anybody to really share the exciting fact that she was friends with the Boy-who-Lived, well except for her parents who could not really understand why being friends with someone like Harry Potter was a big deal.

It was raining heavily and the café bookstore was closing. It would take Hermione about fifteen minutes to walk back to her hostel, and despite arguing to wait it out, Harry's request to wait at his hostel which was much closer surprised her but did not prevent her from accepting.

His hostel was small and shabby. It had creaking wood panels, but Hermione could not help but notice that it had a wonderful view of the waterfront. A lot of questions crossed her mind, she was sure he had the means to live somewhere better but here he was living apparently with no adult guidance.

She was his age, thirteen, and Hermione could not imagine her parents being alright with her being alone in a foreign country, after hearing news of her being expelled from school.

Hermione sat on a couch in the room, while Harry sat on the bed.

"Are you going to go home?" Hermione asked, trying to kill the silence between them, and satisfy at least one of the questions running through her mind.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe."

"Does Sirius know where you are?" She knew that she was overstepping, but she couldn't help it.

He didn't respond in the first few seconds, and Hermione began to worry that her overstepping would ruin all the grounds she made in the previous week and a half.

Harry nodded. "I'll go home eventually."

Silence again, but Harry stared intently at her, causing Hermione to feel nervous.

"You sure seem to know a lot about me." He spoke again.

A small smile graced Hermione's lip and she shrugged. "You are quite popular, especially at Hogwarts."

"What house are you in?" He asked.

Hermione was surprised at his newfound talkativeness, which was defined by him saying three complete sentences in less than a minute without being prodded by her incessant questions.

"Slytherin."

The rare look of amusement filled his face and he gave out a short audible laugh. "Are you being serious?"

"What?" Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes." His tone was light. "I pegged you for a Ravenclaw since I did meet you in a bookstore, or maybe even Gryffindor since you have the tendency to lose all propriety when you don't get what you want."

Hermione glared at him, playfully. "Uhm, no. I don't know how I got into Slytherin but I did."

He continued to stare at her, and in an effort to escape his intense gaze, Hermione stood up from the couch. The floor creaked beneath her as she walked over to the small picture frames on the wall. She just wanted something to do. She stood observing the images probably for more time than she should. For so long that Harry came to stand beside her.

"What do you think it means?" She asked.

Although she didn't turn to look, she could imagine Harry shrugging like he often did as he answered her question. "It's a paddle in the water."

Hermione almost rolled her eyes. "I can see that, but why only show the paddle and not the boat."

Harry sighed. "Are you always this philosophical? You see why I thought you were a Ravenclaw?"

Hermione scoffed and began to turn to give her rebuttal but was startled by how close Harry was standing.

He didn't give her any time to recover from her shock, as he leaned down to put a short kiss on her lips, before pulling back, sharply.

Hermione recovered from the sudden nature of the kiss, faster than she expected and surprised Harry by stepping forward and placing a longer kiss on his lips. She lifted her arms to latch around his neck, and she could feel the presence of his arms around her waist.

Hermione didn't know how long the kiss lasted, but when it did, she realized that it stopped raining, although it was still dark and cloudy outside. It was night now and she knew she had to get home.

"I have to go." She whispered, arms still laced around his neck.

"Stay." He protested. "For the night."

Hermione laughed. She didn't know if his words held the connotation that she thought it did, but even if it didn't she couldn't stay.

She was leaving early tomorrow morning. Her parents would be concerned and although she liked him a lot, she wasn't naïve to think that anything that happens further tonight would be more than a summer fling. She didn't want to be that type of girl.

"I can't." Hermione apologized. "It's late. I should really go home."

Harry was disappointed, but pulled away and accepted her decision.

"I'll miss you." She said what she knew will be true. "Would you mind if I write to you?"

She swore she saw a small smile on his face. "No, I would actually like that." He admitted.

Hermione stayed for a few more minutes, giving Harry her last kiss, before going out in the wet, dark night.