Hi, friends!

Just a reminder: this fic is a slow-burn. Which means that the romance will be slow, especially here. When I added this tag to the fic, I was serious. It's going to be long. And if it's not for you, that's okay, but I repeated it multiples times and this is not going to change.
There will be romance, a good fluffy romance even. But not now, not when the characters are so deeply wounded. It's a mental-health centred fic, but it's also a romance, I promise.
If it's too hard for you, that's okay, I can understand and I'm glad you read the first chapters, but please take care of yourself. And no need to complain about the gloomy aspect of Basorexia, please, it's just mean at this point lol.

Moreover, I remind you that it's a long fic. I already wrote 45 chapters and I plan to write at least 20 more.

I hope you'll like this chapter.
xx
Nova

Hermione had planned everything. Meticulously. For days.

She had thought it all out in advance, during her breaks in the bookshop, when she was preparing meals or hanging out the washing. She had changed her mind a good ten times before sticking to a fixed plan. She was mentally ready.

The dining room table was set for two. A large wooden tray was ready to be taken upstairs. Three bottles of Muggle beer sat on the coffee table in the living room. She had also brought out some apple juice, unsure of what her guests would drink.

Harry had suggested a week earlier that he and Theo come along so they could all see each other. He seemed to want to change things. She couldn't refuse.

The urge had been there, though. She had thought about refusing, remembering her best friend's absence over the last few months and his self-centred letters which she never answered. She'd remembered all those times she'd hoped he'd give up on the idea of her taking Malfoy in, hoped they'd reconnect. This letter had reminded her of the times she wished he'd contacted her just to see each other, to talk, to go out, not to beg her to accept the law's terms.

Yet she had quickly forgotten all that as she remembered her best friend's face and smile. She missed Harry too much. She needed him, no matter how her need for solitude might feel, no matter what her resentment might suggest. She needed to talk to him, to confide in him, to hug him and tell him how much she missed him.

She would be lying to herself if she said she didn't. He was her best friend.

He was her best friend. Her only friend, really. Her only family. The only person who really mattered to her.

She had been in denial for weeks, she had felt she could cope without anyone. She had convinced herself that she didn't need him anymore, even though she felt so much jealousy when she read his stories describing his perfect life. She needed Harry. She needed his support, his presence, his love.

So she was anxious. She had been preparing for his arrival for two days. She hadn't been to work since. She needed peace and quiet and time. She needed to prepare herself to see him again.

The fact that Harry was officially introducing his husband to her didn't help her already high level of panic.

Of course, she had seen Theo before at Hogwarts and had even spoken to him a few times, but the circumstances of their sixth year had made an 'official' meeting impossible. And she didn't want to count the trials as such, given the state her best friend had been in at the time.

She remembered his blank stare, his low shoulders and his fatalistic words. He hadn't seemed to have won the war.

The tension in the back of Hermione's neck had been weighing on her for the last few days. She couldn't relax and knew that it was a consequence of her stress. Her muscles were so tight that she was getting a headache. She needed to move, to walk, so she wouldn't explode, so she wouldn't break down.

It was the bumpy sound of a car engine that brought her out of her thoughts. Her heartbeat quickened, a weight formed in her stomach and tingling appeared in her fingertips. All her stress symptoms.

She ran a hand across the back of her neck, hoping to relax her shoulders and calm herself down.

It was just Harry. It was just her best friend, the one she'd grown up with, the one she'd been through everything with.

She had to wait a few minutes before the Muggle bell rang in the living room. She had stood frozen in the middle of her living room, unable to think concisely. Her thoughts were all jumbled up.

Then she took a long breath. The last time that melody had sounded in her ears, she had been told of a death. An important death.

She closed her eyes. It was just Harry. He wasn't going to tell her anything disastrous.

Albert barked from his place by the fireplace and got up to go to the front door. He brushed against her legs as he passed, but she hardly noticed him.

It was just Harry.

She walked forward, her headache still pounding at her temples, as she put her hand on the handle and slowly opened the door.

Harry was wearing a brown winter jumper and faded jeans that almost made her smile. He always tended to overdress when he came to visit her. When she'd moved to France, he'd researched the area–which he'd never heard of before–and learned that even in summer it tended to be colder than elsewhere.

So whenever he went to her house, he wore a jumper, or a coat, which contrasted most of the time with the temperature outside. Hermione had to admit, however, that while this day was sunny and the temperature was mild, the past week had not been. So Harry was not always wrong.

Theodore was dressed more lightly, but with unfailing elegance. Beige linen trousers, a white shirt with two buttons open, a pair of black braces firmly attached to his trousers, a beige jacket and black dress shoes. A muggle outfit.

She couldn't help but make a comparison with Malfoy, who had also been released from Azkaban three months earlier, but who was nothing like the man in front of her. The contrast was striking.

He was clean, calm and stood proudly behind his husband. He had a poise she hadn't seen in Malfoy since their days at Hogwarts.

She turned her eyes to her best friend, who was not standing as straight as his husband.

Harry's hair was a mess, as it had always been. Theo's hair was neatly combed.

Harry's glasses were damaged. Theo's were not, they even looked luxurious.

The watch on Harry's wrist was Muggle and plastic. The gold chain on Theo's pocket watch fit perfectly in his coat.

Harry's green gaze pierced her. Theo's brown eyes watched the surroundings curiously.

It was strange to see them side by side as their disparities were so obvious. They seemed so different that for a moment, Hermione wondered what could have brought them together.

Then Theo looked at his husband and she remembered. The spark she saw there, as he repositioned his arm under Harry's, reminded her of the blatant love that floated between them. That spark of recognition, tenderness, pride, but most of all self-sacrifice. Theodore would have done anything for him and Hermione knew that the reverse was also true.

She turned her head towards Harry who had not stopped looking at her for a second since she opened the door. She looked into his eyes for a few moments.

Time seemed to stand still as she realised the time they had lost. Those few months had seemed like an eternity compared to all those moments spent with each other. Missing him was gripping her stomach.

"Harry," she whispered like a call.

And that's how he perceived it.

She fell into his arms and nestled her face in the crook of his neck as the rest of the world disappeared around her, around them. There was only him, his chest, his warmth and the chin he had placed on her head.

They did not speak, they did not need to yet. They were meeting again and that was all that mattered.

It was just Harry, after all.

A few minutes passed in silence. So quietly that Hermione thought she heard her best friend's heartbeat.

Eventually it was Albert's bark that separated them. He had spotted Theodore–who had moved away from his husband to give them room–behind Harry. Albert was growling, teeth bared and staring at the intruder he had never seen around.

And like every time Hermione looked down at her dog, she felt all her previous apprehensions and the multiple emotions that were tugging at her disappear in a flash. She knelt down next to Albert and placed a hand on his furry skull as she passed.

"It's all right, boy," she whispered, putting an arm around him to soothe him. "This is Theodore, Harry's husband."

As she said this, Hermione looked up at him, who was watching her with obvious curiosity. He was standing perfectly straight, hands in his pockets, mouth twisted into a very slight sneer. His eyelids were wrinkled, as if he was trying to find the answers to all his questions in one look.

He was a strange man, Hermione had always thought. Not negatively, of course, he was still Harry's partner and she had nothing against him. Even though she had only spoken to him vaguely at Hogwarts–through Harry–that had never stopped her from forming her own opinion of him. A good opinion. He made her best friend happy, and she couldn't ask for more.

However, Theodore always had this tendency to look at her as if he understood each of her intentions, her thoughts or her emotions. As if he was reading her like an open book.

Of course, she wasn't the type to hide her feelings, she never had been. But Hermione didn't consider herself to be an extrovert, particularly open to others–on the contrary–nor was she very transparent about her feelings.

Yet Theodore knew. She was sure of it. She didn't know what exactly, but he knew.

"Granger," he greeted her with a nod.

"Nott," she replied in a tone just as formal as his. She stood up, her hand still resting on Albert's skull.

"We've brought lunch," Harry interjected, cutting them off in their staring match.

She turned her eyes and thanked him, although she already knew he had done so. She knew that he had only wanted to interrupt what could have lasted an eternity.

"Come in," she offered, moving aside to let them pass.

As she did so, her anxieties returned to the pit of her stomach. After the reunion, reality hit her again.

Harry pulled something from his pocket and drew his wand. She did her best not to flinch at the gesture. He then enlarged what he was holding with a spell and a basic Muggle cooler appeared. He placed it on the table, followed closely by Theodore, and turned to her.

Before he could say anything, she cut him off.

"I prepared everything," she said quickly, pointing to the plates and tray on the table. "Malfoy is upstairs and–I think he prefers to eat upstairs."

She was content with this justification. She didn't want to dwell on her housemate's lack of mobility, nor was it any of her business. She lived with him, that was all. She didn't want to know his feelings or even the reasons for his isolation. That was fine with her. It was simple.

She brought him his meals, washed his clothes and filled his cupboard with potions. Out of simple kindness. Out of simple humanity. Out of simple compassion.

Theodore stared at her for a few seconds, with the same calculating look as before, before nodding. He grabbed some plastic boxes from the cooler and placed them on the tray. He then turned to Harry.

Hermione looked at something she hadn't seen in years. Their love, the bond between them.

Theo seemed to be looking at his husband in the same mysterious way that he had been looking at her, and yet it was enough for Harry to come up to him and take in his face, as if he understood him with one look. All as if she wasn't there. It was impressive. They had always had this ability to understand each other with a simple look.

"Hey, nothing's wrong," Harry smiled, stroking his cheek.

Hermione suddenly felt like she wasn't supposed to be there. She felt like walking away, giving them space. She could understand why Theodore might be anxious about meeting his friend, at least that was how she interpreted their exchange. After all, she herself was reacting that way.

Eventually, before she could motivate herself to leave the room, Theodore nodded and Harry kissed him on the forehead. Harry then watched as Theo retrieved the tray, glanced at her, and then headed for the stairs that led upstairs. A second later, he was gone.

And the silence returned. Heavy. Harsh. Painful.

She wanted to say something. She wanted to open her mouth and break the silence, but she couldn't. She couldn't even look at Harry. She stared at the stairs, as if that would help her forget that he was there, two metres away from her, and that they were going to have lunch together.

"I explained where Malfoy's room was," Harry suddenly justified himself.

She looked up at him and blinked a few times, unsure of how to respond. She hadn't even asked herself how Theodore knew where Malfoy's room was. And she didn't care. That was the least of her worries right now.

She nodded and walked over to the cooler to take out its contents. She needed to focus on something else, a simple task. Putting the food on the table was one and it would be perfect.

With her head down on her trembling, clenched hands, she hurriedly did so. She dropped cutlery and food several times and berated herself for her clumsiness.

Harry seemed inclined to help her, but she pretended not to see him. She continued until they were sitting opposite each other in silence.

Strangely enough, if Hermione had wanted to snuggle into Harry's arms the moment she saw him, she didn't feel that way anymore. Her apprehensions were back and her anger at him was swelling in her chest.

One by one she recalled the letters from her best friend, his absence and the horrific times she had hoped Harry would come and support her. He had never been there. And she was angry with him.

Yet she remained still and silent. She had nothing to say to him at the moment. She was waiting.

She just kept her head down, stared at her empty plate and listened to Albert's snoring who had laid down by the fireplace as soon as he had realised that no danger was threatening them.

"I'm sorry," Harry said suddenly.

She didn't look up. She just swallowed silently. She had nothing more to say, nothing to say back. She began to fiddle with her fork, in a movement that betrayed her anxiety. Her throat was far too tight to swallow anything.

She thought that her friend was probably doing the same thing she was. Ruminating. She knew him by heart, she knew he was as anxious as she was. She didn't need to look at him for that.

And she knew he showed it just as much as she did. By biting his lower lip, readjusting his glasses on his nose, fiddling with the threads sticking out of his jumper or biting the dry skin around his nails. He had lots of ways of letting it show.

"I've been terribly selfish," he said after a long silence. "I've thought of nothing but myself these past few months."

The last few years, she thought bitterly, but didn't dare say it out loud. In fact, she was slowly realising it. But she wasn't ready to face it, she felt idiot to have never acted. She had expressed her need for solitude, but in retrospect, Hermione realised that the reaction of those close to her should not have been the one they had had. They shouldn't have silently accepted it. It wasn't what she would have done for them.

She felt tears welling up in her eyes.

"I was blinded by–I don't know what, maybe by my desire to have Theo back, or maybe–"

He was silent. She didn't need to look at him to know that he had looked away and was gritting his teeth. She knew him by heart. Even after all these years.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he continued.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him clutch his head in his hands.

"I screwed up. I fucked up. I was selfish and I let you down."

She swallowed to hold back a sob. Her tears were flowing freely now, but she was careful not to show it to him. She was ashamed.

She heard Harry's chair scrape across the floor and two seconds later he was crouching to her right and he put his hands on her thigh hesitantly.

"Look at me," he begged her in a low voice.

She closed her eyes, her hands trembling over her plate.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I have no idea how to make it up to you. I've–"

He held back a sob and used the sleeve of his jumper to wipe his nose. He was in the same state as her. Hermione could feel it, hear it, see it.

"I realised that I had locked myself in a bubble that wasn't reality, that was actually very far from reality. I was with Theo, I–I didn't see anyone else and I just sent letters to tell you about my daily life with him. I was selfish. I thought that–I thought that was enough. I thought it was what everyone was expecting, after all the years of fighting for his release. I thought it would be enough to make things right, that after the way I've behaved over the last few years and the way I've treated everyone so that Theo could be released–I owed you that."

More tears escaped Hermione's eyes, but she didn't look at him. She had nothing to say. Or too much to say.

"I was selfish," he repeated for the umpteenth time. "Everything was fine with me and Theo, so I figured that–I figured it was fine with everyone else. And then I saw him trying to hide from me that he wasn't recovering as well from Azkaban as he was trying to make me believe and–I realised I'd been deluding myself about him, but also about you. I've been blinded. I've been such a–such a fool, Hermione."

He fell silent again and lowered his head. He let his hands fall back onto his thighs and Hermione felt naked, abandoned. She swallowed, unsure of what to do, or what to say.

It would have been hypocritical of her to say that she didn't understand Harry's point of view. She had listened to him and put herself in his shoes. It made sense, in a way.

However, it did not excuse him. She knew that.

"I don't know what to do to make it up to you, Hermione," he admitted in a whisper. "I thought apologising would make things better, stupidly, but now I realise that it's not enough. It'll never be enough, actually."

Hermione felt torn.

She was angry with him. She'd felt abandoned, alone–despite the fact that she'd partly wanted to–and terribly hurt.

Yet to see him like this, so sad, almost destroyed by his remorse, and kneeling beside her, weeping, broke her heart. She missed her best friend. She missed his presence, his words, his smiles and his hugs. And even though he hadn't been there for her every day in the years before the Death Eater Law, he had been there in spirit, and in the heartfelt letters he sent her. And she couldn't deny that.

That was how they worked, wasn't it? They'd screw up, apologise, and everything would be fine. They always did that.

The scrape of her chair made a hell of a noise, and she was afraid to wake Albert, but he was far too much of a heavy sleeper for that.

She fell to her knees in front of Harry and grabbed his hands just as he looked up at her.

"I want you to make me a promise," she said, her heart pounding and her eyes misty with tears.

He nodded without waiting.

"Never again. Because Harry, next time, I won't be able to get past it."

oOo

Theo stood motionless at the entrance of the bedroom. With the tray in his hands and the door wide open, he was staring straight at Draco.

The latter had no idea what to do, so he remained silent and just as motionless as his friend. He could hardly believe that he was facing him.

And when he realised that Theodore had climbed the stairs, that he had come to join him in his room with their meal and that he had done all this for him, Draco felt a wave of jealousy run through him. He had done it. He was doing things that Draco simply felt incapable of.

But it wasn't just that. There was something else. Something stronger.

"Hey, mate."

Determination. Yes. That was it.