Hey, I'm with you, okay? Always…

Harry bursts into the almost deserted common room, muttering to himself with his hands fisted at his sides. He storms across the room and flops into the armchair across from Hermione who is the lone occupant of the room. Hermione had been working on her potions essay when Harry slammed the door open so she currently has her quill in hand, frozen a few inches from her parchment. She looks up at her distressed friend and raises an eyebrow at his prominent frown and furrowed brows.

"Interesting night, I assume." Hermione places her quill down on the table and smooths out her parchment. She looks at Harry expectantly.

"That's one way to put it," Harry mutters, his frown increasing.

"Well?" Hermione's face takes on an inquisitive expression, one that Harry is used to seeing when she is engrossed in one of her more challenging texts. For some reason, he feels himself calm slightly at the sight, his eyes losing their hardened glint, shifting into a look of turmoil and melancholy.

"I had a meeting with Dumbledore earlier tonight. He's playing me, Hermione; I'd swear to it. He thinks I'm a fool, that I'm still the naive child that he rescued from the Dursleys five years ago. It's absolutely infuriating." Harry rests his elbows on his knees, leaning down and fisting his hands in his raven hair. "Why am I even telling you this? I doubt you'll believe me."

"Actually, that's where you're wrong. I've suspected something of the sort for quite a while now. About a year actually; Ever since your name was drawn from the Goblet for that blasted tournament."

Harry freezes at Hermione's words. He slowly brings his hands from where they are fisted in his hair, tilting his head up to meet Hermione's eyes as he does so. Harry's eyebrows furrow and a frown makes its way onto his features again. "Why didn't you tell me, Hermione."

"I didn't- I didn't think you'd believe me." Hermione snaps her book shut, fiddling with the frayed corners of the weathered tome in an attempt to disperse her ever growing nervous energy. She glances up at Harry, catching his gaze for a brief moment, but quickly lowers her head, retreating into the safety of her hair. She hears Harry sigh heavily, the sound betraying just how weary the ravenette really is. "I'm sorry."

Harry sighs again, with the same weary exhaustion as before. "I'm not angry with you. I understand why you didn't say anything." Harry drops his head into his hands, hunching over uncomfortably. "It's just… It's everything, Hermione. Everything is crashing down around me and I have no idea who to trust. Sometimes it feels as if I can't trust anyone; Not even you and Ron. I can't tell who's with me, who's against me, and who's just using me for their own gain. I can't-"

"Hey, I'm with you, okay? Always…" Hermione interrupts Harry, taking his warm hands in her cold ones. She squeezes, an attempt at reassurance, trying to think of something, anything, she could say to prove her devotion to the young man in front of her. Through the years, she has always been there for him, and he has always been there for her. Their relationship has grown and flowered into something that is difficult to understand, yet beautiful in its own unique ways. Hermione still isn't sure what exactly their relationship has grown into, or even what she wants their relationship to look like. However, what she does know is that she plans on spending her life with the man in front of her. No matter the cost, no matter the hardships, Hermione will be there for Harry, and soon, she will come to realize that Harry will do the same for her.