Hermione sifted carefully through her folder for the paper she needed. She needed to find it so she could give it to Neville before they headed down to breakfast. Finding it at last with a quiet hum of satisfaction, she set it down on her dresser and swept her brush through her curls one last time before clipping it so her hair fell in a heavy mass down her back.

She shouldered her bag and set off quickly for the common room, whistling softly as she went. The halls she passed through were bright with the morning light; fueling her cheerful disposition. She tried hard not to think about what had happened with Harry a few days before. Ever since that day he'd followed her relentlessly, wanting to talk, wanting to apologize.

She had ignored him every time; the first had been the hardest, she'd nearly gave in. Nearly.

But as she had thought on it, she realized that she had already forgiven him. She couldn't pinpoint exactly when, but what mattered was that she had forgiven him. Fundamentally she knew how different he and Malfoy were. That snog with Harry had still been consensual from the beginning, but when he had advanced it to touching her more intimately than they had done so far in their relationship was where the trouble had arisen, and where the memory of Malfoy had come up. She'd had no issue with him exploring her in that way were it not for the memory of Malfoy to rise unbidden and spoil it.

Malfoy would have continued. Harry had stopped and realized what was wrong. She had seen the immediate horror and remorse in his eyes. Malfoy would have felt no remorse whatsoever.

So why was it she couldn't bear to look at him, or even be around him?

She thought back to what he had said.

"No matter what your hair color is, I'll like you just the same."

What if he got tired of this, though? Of having to wait for her to get over what Malfoy had done? What if he was only staying with her out of pity?

Suppose he's just too nice to say he's had enough? If I can't handle one snog, how is the rest of this relationship supposed to go?

But Harry had been patient and kind all summer after the hideous truth about Malfoy's actions had been revealed. He had felt awful that he had not known or been able to help, and he had understood when she said she'd needed some space and he had honored that, and slowly she had adjusted to the aftermath. The nightmares had continued but they had been able to come together bit by bit.

You've got to remember that Malfoy's gone, she thought to herself as she entered the Great Hall. And Harry would never hurt you intentionally.

There weren't many students around, and she wasn't surprised. She had always had a habit of waking too early in the morning. Brushing her thoughts aside, she swept over to the table and promptly sat down in front of Neville, who was dozing into his porridge.

"Neville," she whispered, poking at his shoulder with her wand. "Wake up!"

"I don't really want to, though," he muttered groggily as his eyes opened.

Hermione took in his appearance. His hair, usually neatly combed and parted to one side, was in terrible disarray, with tufts standing out all over his head. His eyes were bleary and red; his face had a pinched look to it.

"You look terrible," she said. "What happened?"

"Your boyfriend happened," he snapped a little too angrily. When he saw her slightly hurt expression, he apologized and pushed his bowl away, leaning on the table with his elbows.

"Harry's been badgering me, asking me to tell you that he'd like to speak to you. I told him you still didn't want to see him but he wouldn't stop. I snuck off to the library to study for my NEWTS and it got pretty late; I must have dozed off or something; because next thing I know he's sitting in front of me, waiting for me to wake up so he can give you this." He fished a small note out of his satchel and thrust it at Hermione.

She took it.

"Thanks, Neville."

He patted her arm. "Tell him to make use of his owl next time. But let me know if you need anything." He stood and stretched, yawning widely. "I've got an hour until my first class. I'm going to nap."

"Alright," Hermione conceded, looking down at the note. "But before I forget, here." She handed him the paper she had found earlier and watched as he waved and left, tucking the parchment into his bag.

She eyed the note warily, then the space around her. More students were coming in now, chatting merrily amongst themselves while others rushed in, propping their books and pieces of parchments on the table so they could finish an assignment before class. The noise was steadily getting louder, and she found herself feeling restless.

After she had picked up a stack of toast and some jam, she set off for the lake.


"You know what you should do? You should go and apologize already instead of moping about and wallowing in self-hatred, that's what," Ron grunted as he sat down at the Gryffindor table, reaching for the sausages.

"She won't even look at me," Harry admitted, poking at his bacon.

"And she has a right not to! What you did was pretty barmy, mate, even for you. You knew how fragile she is right now, and yet you did it!" Here Ron lowered his voice. "What she went through with Malfoy was serious, and whether you believe her lies or not, she's not okay. She's still traumatized about things like that, and for you to nearly do the same thing doesn't make things any better." Finished, he viciously stabbed at his egg and brought it to his mouth.

Harry was looking down at his goblet, fiddling with the delicate relief pattern on it.

"I know," he said softly. "I feel like such a shit. We were snogging and I got too into it and didn't realize she was in a different place. But I should have been careful." He looked at the empty seat across from them. "She wouldn't even look at me the day after."

"Then wait until she's ready to see you," Ron said. "Don't push this on her; it will only frighten her more."

"We're making her sound like she's some fragile glass doll," Harry remarked bitterly. "Even though she's not. She's faced far worse and succeeded without blinking an eye, and now all it takes is two stupid blokes and she's a mess."

"You're not stupid, Harry," Ron offered. "It's what you choose to do that makes you stupid."

"What about Malfoy, then?" Harry asked dully.

"No, he's just stupid."

Harry snorted and turned to Ron. "When did you get so smart?"

Ron flushed. "I've realized acting on impulse hasn't always been the best way to do things. So now I think about things more."

He glared at Harry, who was smiling.

"Don't you go making fun of me, though, because for all my thinking, sometimes my old habits do come back," he said warningly.

Harry held up his hands in surrender. "There's no need for that, mate. Neville gave me hell for what happened already."

"Good," Ron muttered, before reaching for his pumpkin juice.


I'm sorry, the note read.

Hermione read it again and again; she could practically hear his voice in her head, saying those two words over and over.

There was an Autumn chill in the air that stilled the lake and gave everything a crisp quality; like when one takes a good, long drink of water after going a long time without it.

Luckily, she wore her cloak and her Gryffindor scarf, and beside her in a small jar, was that blue flame she was so fond of.

I'm sorry.

Still holding the note in her hand, she placed her hands behind her on the grass to support her weight and leaned back, her legs stretched out in front of her.

She felt the sun on her face, warming her hair and her body, turning the vast lake into one glorious shining mass.

She sat that way for a few more minutes until she heard the warning bell ring from the castle. Sighing, she stood and collected her school bag and trudged up to the school. Perhaps a visit was in order for later that day.


Harry was walking along the corridor after a particularly nasty Potions lesson. His scar was prickling uncomfortably and he rubbed it absentmindedly as he made his way to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Next thing he knew, he'd been seized and whisked into a small, shadowed alcove, hidden behind the large statue of Roderick the Raving.

"What-"

A hand pressed over his mouth-he found Hermione there in front of him.

Suddenly he felt nervous. There was no anger in her gaze, but the guilt of what he had done still tugged at him.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said. "I was an idiot. I should have asked if you were okay with it."

"I was at first," she said honestly, hugging herself. "I liked it-but then a memory of Malfoy came up and it got to me. It was too much."

"I'm sorry," he said again, looking so contrite it compelled her to come forward and hug him.

"I know you didn't mean to frighten me," she said. "You're not him."

Harry's arms wrapped around her slowly. The tension that had built inside him over the last few days melted away.

"Are you still having nightmares?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "But not as often. I'm sleeping a little better, now."

"I'm glad," he said, and they pulled apart. "Next time you dream about him I want you to vividly picture me planting my fist right into his nose."

Hermione laughed. "With pleasure."

They began to walk. Hermione reached out and took his hand in hers.

"I forgave you a while ago, you know," came her soft voice from the darkness. "I've just been thinking some things over."

Harry sagged with relief at her confession, but wariness crept into his heart.

"Thinking what over?" he asked cautiously.

"I was a little scared for a bit that you would get tired of having to deal with this," she said, her eyes lowered to the ground. "I don't want you to feel like you have to stay with me for any reason other than you really wanting to."

He stopped.

"I do want to," he said. "I've always wanted to."

He was blushing. It melted her heart.

She wrapped her arms around herself.

"I was just worried that if this...trauma goes on for a long time then I wouldn't want you to feel trapped or angry with me," she said, forcing the words out. "I don't know how long it might take to get past it. I'm still so afraid that he'll come out of nowhere and take me with him. Maybe he just wanted to scare me but I believe him that he's going to try to come back. If I could I'd blink and it would be over but it might take weeks or months, or-"

Harry went to her, took her face in his hands gently.

"I told you I'd be here with you regardless of how long it takes," he said quietly. "If you need more time and space, say so, but I choose to stay with you because I love you."

Her eyes widened.

"What?"

"I have since Year 3," he said. "You were so brilliant and strong helping me break out Sirius, and then in the forest-"

She shook her head. "I fainted, remember?"

"I wouldn't have gone that far without you," he said. "Now it's my turn to help you."

She stood on her toes and kissed him, her tears smearing against his cheek.

When they broke apart, she wiped at her eyes, smiling.

"You'll go with me to the ball, won't you?" she asked.

"I was just about to ask you," Harry said, grinning. "I'd be honored to be your date."