The theater was dark, the only light coming from the screen where Disney's Robin Hood played out its cheerful tale. Hermione adjusted Harry on her lap, feeling the warmth of his small body as he giggled at the animated animals. Next to her, Neville was just as engrossed, his little hands clutching a small container of baby food as he watched the movie in awe. But Hermione's attention kept drifting to the man sitting on the other side of Neville.

Frank.

He was stiff, his posture rigid in a way that had nothing to do with the seats and everything to do with something internal. She could sense it, the tension radiating off him, and it made the air between them feel heavier than it should.

Hermione leaned closer, her voice a soft whisper as she asked, "Frank, are you okay?"

He hesitated, his gaze still fixed on the screen. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he nodded, but she could see the strain in his eyes. It wasn't okay. Not really. "It's just... the darkness," he finally admitted, his voice so low she almost didn't catch it over the movie's sounds. "It reminds me of... when I was being Crucioed."

The admission hit her harder than she expected. She knew what that curse did to a person, how it lingered, how it twisted your mind into knots long after the pain had faded. She knew because she had lived it too. Without thinking, she responded, "I get it. After I was Crucioed, I couldn't handle the dark either. I had my friends lock me in dark places until I could manage it."

Frank's head snapped toward her, his eyes wide with shock. "You did what?"

Hermione shrugged, trying to downplay the horror of it. "It worked. Eventually, the panic stopped. I needed to prove to myself that I could control it."

Frank didn't say anything, but she could feel his eyes on her, feel the way his gaze lingered, more intense than before. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. When he finally spoke again, his voice was quiet, almost reverent. "How long... were you tortured?"

Hermione's eyes remained fixed on the screen, but the cheerful music and bright colors couldn't chase away the memories that his question stirred. "About an hour," she said, her tone deceptively casual, as if it hadn't been the longest, most agonizing hour of her life.

Frank went completely still beside her. She could feel him watching her, his shock palpable. The air between them crackled with something intense—something that wasn't just tension but a shared understanding, a connection forged in the darkest parts of their lives. It was as if the darkness around them had pulled them closer, forced them to confront the things they usually kept hidden.

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of emotions swirling within her. She didn't want to feel this way, didn't want to let the chemistry between them grow, but it was impossible to ignore. Every glance, every word they shared seemed to amplify it, pulling her toward him even when she tried to resist.

She could feel his eyes on her throughout the rest of the movie, feel the way his presence seemed to wrap around her, making it hard to breathe. She tried to focus on the boys, on their innocent laughter and the way they pointed at the screen, but her mind kept drifting back to Frank—back to the way he made her feel.

There was something about him that drew her in, something that made her want to lean into the connection they shared. But she knew she couldn't. Not now. Not when they were both still so raw, so uncertain of what the future held. She had to remind herself that she needed space, that this wasn't the time to get tangled up in emotions she couldn't afford to feel.

But as the movie played on, and Frank continued to watch her with that intense gaze, Hermione found it harder and harder to keep her distance. Every stolen glance, every accidental brush of their hands sent a jolt of awareness through her, making her heart race and her thoughts scatter.

When the movie finally ended and the lights came back on, Hermione had been holding her breath the entire time. She stood up quickly, gathering Harry in her arms as if the simple act of holding him could ground her, could remind her of what mattered most.

Neville and Harry laughed heartily and sang in their gibberish voice, "Oo-de-awy, oo-de-awy!"

But even as they left the theater, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between her and Frank. Something she wasn't sure she could control. And as much as she tried to push it aside, the memory of his gaze, of the way he had looked at her with something akin to longing, stayed with her, haunting her thoughts and making her wonder if maybe—just maybe—there was more between them than either of them was willing to admit.

Reminiscing this and that and having such a good time

Oo-de-lally, oo-de-lally, golly, what a day!