Chapter Four

When Hermione reached the landing, under Harry's room, she heard footsteps. It must be Harry pacing. Why must he torture himself this way? Oh Harry, please forgive yourself, please! Her mind was racing, she was nervous about encountering Harry again; worried that he might be in a bad mood, yet again. But, oh, it's not his fault; he's just stressed about the whole affair. Yes, that was it, assured Hermione.

Slowly, she made her way up the last flight of stairs, and knocked.

Harry was pacing in his room, wondering about Sirius and what life would be like if he hadn't died, then he was jolted rather violently back to reality with an abrupt knock on the door. It had to be Hermione, he thought.

He crossed the room, and opened the door once more, to find Hermione holding a tray, with two plates, and some butterbeer. He hadn't been crying for a while, so he must've looked okay, because Hermione said nothing, just walked across the room, to the bed, and placed their dinner on it, sitting down, and motioning for Harry to do the same. Slowly, he went towards her and sat beside her.

Hermione handed him a plate as she thought, my goodness, he looks right horrible. His eyes red and he's so pale, if only he'd talk to me!

They ate in silence then, saying nothing, and hearing only the clinking of cutlery on plates, and the occasional gulp of butterbeer. When they had finished eating, Hermione took both plates and put them on the floor, in front of the door and made her way back to the bed. Harry and Hermione sat in silence, doing nothing, just starring, each thinking their own thoughts until Hermione couldn't bear it any longer.

She took Harry's hand in hers and stroked it gently, he didn't seem to mind, and she could feel him relaxing. Slowly, she pulled him closer and caressed his face, then asked if he wanted to talk yet.

Tears welling in his sore eyes, his throat tightening, and his body tensing again, told Hermione no, he didn't want to talk, yet. So she simply pulled him into a hug, and once again felt him relax. Hermione lay down, and Harry followed suit, laying in her arms, while Hermione stoked his messy black hair. Harry fell asleep like that, and for once in a long while, being held, and loved, happy for the time being.

Hermione slowly took her arms away form his fragile form, and pulled the covers up around him. She tiptoed to the door and took the meal trays with her, back downstairs, not yet knowing who she was about to meet.