October of 1997 was unusually humid at Hogwarts. The summer had been hot too, but it reached new levels in late September. Water was permitted and encouraged in every classroom (except, of course, Potions) and Flitwick even charmed the glass in the windows to blow a breeze in every room, including dorm rooms. Despite the wind, Gryffindor seventh-year Harry Potter always woke with a start, sweating and frightened.

He stood at the window, clutching a goblet of water. His large, emerald green eyes were troubled as he stared up at the crescent moon. Everything in his life was falling apart. Voldemort had disappeared and hadn't been seen since May. Dumbledore was aging and his health was deteriorating. Ron was fighting with Harry again and Harry couldn't figure out why. And Hermione…well, she was going crazy. She was Head Girl, was taking all NEWT classes, and as a co-founder and vice-president of Dumbledore's Army she had more responsibilities than most Hogwarts students. Harry hadn't seen her so tired since third year, when she had the Time Turner. Still, she seemed to be keeping up, even though she was more snappy than usual.

Harry set down his goblet and grabbed his glasses and a book. He slipped silently out of the boys' dorm and downstairs into the common room. He spotted Dobby, a house elf, fluffing up a pillow on the couch.

"Hello, Dobby," Harry said.

"Harry Potter!" said the elf, bowing low to the ground. "Dobby has not seen Harry Potter in such a long time, sir, such a long time…"

"Haven't seen you for a while either, Dobby. How's life? How's Winky?"

"Dobby is good, sir, thank you. Winky is improving. She had started cleaning again, sir, and we house elves think that it is about time, sir, for it has been three years."

"No kidding." Harry sat down in the chair by the fireplace. Dobby finished fluffing the pillow, gave another low bow, and left. Harry opened his book and began reading.

Hello Kate, it's me. I think I may be losing it. I can't lose it though because Harry's depending on me. He and Ron are fighting again. Ron's furious because Harry has all the weight of the world on his shoulders and has to carry it alone. He won't let either of us help him. I know he wants to but he can't because of the silly prophecy, and Ron can't accept that. He wants to be useful. I know, if he wants to be useful he should help me in some smaller chores. Being Head Girl is not as easy as it seems. There's so much planning involved in everything. I have to keep my marks far above average, and that's getting harder and harder to do. Occasionally I find myself thinking, "Alright, that's it. You're done. You've done your best for nearly seven years. Just stop. Relax. Flow."

"What am I reading?" Harry murmured in surprise. He hadn't looked at the book when he picked it up; he assumed it was a school book. But this clearly wasn't. It looked like Hermione's diary. But who was Kate? Harry closed the book and set it on the end table beside him. He couldn't help but be curious of what else was in there, and now he knew why Ron was upset with him…he grabbed the book and flipped to a page near the beginning.

G'day Kate! Beautiful day today. Flitwick charmed the windows to blow a breeze on us! I wonder what spell he used; perhaps he'll teach it to us. Oh, but that's not all. Things were normal between the three of us today. We chatted and went for a walk to Hagrid's and visited with him for a while. Then we walked around the castle and at seven we had our DA meeting. Harry's such a wonderful teacher. Honestly, he should be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher here! He's so patient with all of the students. You can't call me crazy for this; any other girl who knew him like I do would—

"Harry? What are you doing up?"

Harry slammed the diary shut and looked up at the stairs. Hermione stood mid-stairway, clutching her nightgown and blinking sleepily.

"What's that?" she asked.

"N-nothing," Harry said, trying to hide the book. "What are you doing down here?"

"I thought I heard voices. Who were you talking to?"

"Dobby."

"Alright…Harry, let me see that book."

"No, you really don't need to!" Harry said, climbing behind the chair. Hermione came down the stairs to stand near him. "You really don't need to see this book, Hermione—"

"Well, you obviously don't want me to see it, so of course I'm curious. What's so bad that you can't share with me? Is it a diary?"

"You could say that," he replied slowly, shifting so that the book was out of her sight.

"Not another enchanted one, right?" she asked, the familiar sparkle coming back into her brown eyes. "I'm not sure I want to be Petrified again, Harry."

"No, it's not enchanted."

"Well, that's good. Speaking of diaries, have you seen mine? I misplaced it today after Charms, I suppose…it's brown and quite plain, but it has my initials in silver near the bottom."

"Never seen it." Harry was alarmed to hear his voice raise an octave in panic.

Hermione's eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth. "Do you have my diary behind your back, Harry?" she asked quietly, sounding horrified.

"No," he said, staring at her feet. He couldn't look at her face.

"Harry James Potter—"

"What are you middle-naming me for?"

"Is that my diary in your hand?"

Harry didn't reply. Averting his gaze, he slowly handed her the book. She took it, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Well, this changes everything, doesn't it?" she said. A tear fell down her face and landed on the book.

"No!" Harry said quickly. "I didn't get far, Hermione, honest! Only the day where Flitwick charmed the windows."

Hermione's shoulders began to shake. She leaned against the chair and buried her face in her hands. "So you know, then. About my feelings."

"Well, I'm flattered, but I really wouldn't make a good professor, Hermione. I'm a bad influence."

She let out a tiny hiccough. Harry grabbed the box of tissues from a nearby table and handed her one. She dabbed at the tears and wiped her face. "Thanks," she said. "But…you don't know, then?"

"There's more?"

"So much."

"Then no. But who's Kate?"

"Kate was my grandmother's name. She died when I was seven. I have so many fond memories of her…when I write in my diary, I write 'Dear Kate' instead of 'Dear Diary'. It makes it more personal and realistic."

"I see. Well…I'm going to go to bed…I guess my little bout of insomnia is gone. I hope it is." He smiled at Hermione and headed for the stairs. Hermione remained below, clutching her diary to her chest. She looked as though she really wanted to say something to Harry, but was held back by some sort of spell. "Good night," Harry called down.

"Harryiloveyou."

Harry, who had been watching Hermione instead of where he was going, ran into the door and fell back. He did not just hear Hermione say…what she had just said…did he? No, Hermione had just said "Harry good night" and he had misinterpreted it. He stood and brushed himself off. He would say "Good night, Hermione" again and she would reply with "Good night, Harry" and this whole thing would be forgotten. It was a good plan. It was a great plan. He'd do it.

"Er…what?"

Bugger!

Hermione sat down in the chair and cried openly. "Oh, I knew I shouldn't have opened my mouth! I knew I'd say that! Oh, Hermione, you are so…stupid!"

"No, no, no…" Harry rushed down the stairs and grabbed the box of tissues again. "No, you're not stupid. Don't ever think you're stupid Hermione, because if you think you're stupid then the rest of us might as well give up entirely. Don't cry. Please."

It was weird, Harry thought, that when Cho was bawling all over him two years ago, he could pat her on the back and comfort her vocally. With Hermione it was different. Ordinarily he could give her a "I'm-Your-Friend-I'm-Here-For-You" hug and encourage her and tell her that she was in the right. Now it was just…awkward. He didn't know what to do.

"So…since when?" he asked, and envisioned himself slamming his head against a wall later for asking.

"Fourth year, during the first Triwizard Task. I saw you flying around that dragon and I just…knew."

"Where you ever planning on telling me?"

"No."

"OK. Does Ron know?"

"Ron doesn't even know his own feelings. How is he supposed to know about mine?"

"Fair enough. Does anyone else know?"

"Not that I know of. I hope you're not angry with me, Harry."

"Of course not. But you were right…everything's different, I suppose…But hey, look at me." He tilted her chin up so that they made eye contact. "I'm still Harry Potter. And you're Hermione Granger. You're my best friend, and you always will be."

She smiled weakly, fresh tears welling up. Harry pulled her up and gave her a quick hug. "I won't tell anyone anything," he promised.

"Thank you."

"Nothing will change."

"Good."

"I'm going to bed."

"OK."

"Good night."

"Good night."