When Harry and Ginny finally made their way back to Gryffindor Tower after a delicious brunch provided by the helpful elves, the moment they stepped through the portrait hole, Ron and Hermione jumped up from the couch and rushed to them.
"Where the hell have you been?" Ron demanded. "You leave the dorm at the crack of dawn, don't say a word, and then disappear off the face of the earth all morning? We were worried sick!"
"Ron was worried sick. I, on the other hand, thought you wanted privacy—hence the early escape," Hermione said with an eye roll.
"So, where did you sneak off to and why?" Ron pressed, eyeing them both suspiciously.
Harry glanced at Ginny, who still looked utterly exhausted after their morning adventure.
"Go ahead and tell them, Harry. I'm going to take a nap," she said, giving him a wink before disappearing into the girls' dormitory.
Harry turned and headed up the stairs to the sixth-year boys' dormitory, not checking if Ron and Hermione were following—he knew they would.
When he opened the door, he found Neville sitting at his desk, poring over some homework. Harry greeted him and then flopped down on his bed with a groan, bracing himself for the questions.
"So," Ron began as he entered and dropped onto his own bed, Hermione settling beside him. "Is there something you want to tell us?"
Harry frowned. He had a lot to tell them—about the Vanishing Cabinet, the eerie tiara—but Ron was wiggling his eyebrows in a way that made it clear he was thinking about something entirely different.
His confusion must have shown, because Hermione stepped in.
"Honestly, Harry. Ron's asking if something happened between you and Ginny."
Harry snorted. A lot had happened between him and Ginny in the last twenty-four hours, but none of it was up for public discussion.
"Nothing happened between us," he said with blank face. "But something huge happened today. You won't believe it."
Neville began to rise, used to giving the trio privacy when secrets were being discussed, but Harry held up a hand.
"You'll want to hear this too, Nev. Stay."
Harry launched into the story—starting with the trap he and Ginny had set for Malfoy, their decision to head to the Room of Requirement instead of going for a morning run, and the glowing footsteps they had followed.
Ron and Hermione turned paler with every word, realizing just how serious it was—and likely regretting how quickly they had dismissed Harry's suspicions.
"And then we pulled the cloth off… and there it was. The Vanishing Cabinet. You know, the one Montague got stuck in last year? Malfoy's been repairing it… to smuggle someone onto Hogwarts grounds." He paused, staring hard at Hermione, who had been the loudest in her skepticism.
"But you can't be sure what he was doing with it…" Hermione said weakly.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Hermione. He was actively trying to sneak someone in behind Dumbledore's back and you're still trying to make me sound paranoid?" he snapped, the frustration breaking through.
"You're right," Ron said quickly, trying to smooth things over. "He wouldn't spend so much time on it if he was just looking at it. And its only purpose is to transport people."
But Harry wasn't in the mood for saving face or softening the truth.
He had expected an apology—or at least a real acknowledgment. Instead, Hermione still wasn't willing to admit she had been wrong. He made a decision not to share the rest of the story for now.
"I've had a hell of a day and I'm not up for arguing. I'm going to get some kip, so if you don't mind…" he muttered, closing the curtains around his bed a bit more forcefully than necessary.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Harry could feel the tension between Ron and Hermione even through the fabric.
"You know, Hermione," Neville said after a beat. "Admitting you're not the only smart one in the room wouldn't kill you once in a while." He turned back to his homework, unbothered.
"I only said—"
"And I said I've had enough, Hermione. Let me rest," Harry's voice came through the curtains, flat and final.
….
When Harry got up from his nap later that afternoon and made his way back to the common room, he was looking for Ginny—or maybe Neville. He still wasn't quite ready to forgive Hermione's behavior.
Hermione, on the other hand, had apparently been waiting for him to appear. The moment he descended the stairs, she intercepted him—not with an apology, but with an explanation.
Ginny was sitting with Neville by the fireplace, and as soon as Harry spotted them, he stepped around Hermione without a word, heading straight for the couch.
Judging by the sharp look Ginny shot Hermione, Neville must have already told her what had transpired in the boys' dormitory.
"Come on, Harry!" Hermione called after him, undeterred. "You have to admit that my thinking was reasonable!"
Before Harry could even open his mouth, Ginny stood and placed herself squarely between him and Hermione, her posture radiating defiance.
"No, Hermione, you weren't reasonable at all," she said, her voice low but heated. "You just didn't want to admit we were right to be worried—something even Dumbledore acknowledged and thanked us for."
Her jaw was clenched, and she looked like she might say more, but stopped herself just in time. The firelight flickered over her face as she stared Hermione down.
"But you didn't have proof. It was just a hunch—and dangerous to act on!" Hermione pressed on.
"Dangerous would've been not acting on it," Ginny snapped. "He's been right this whole time, and you just don't want to admit it."
"I didn't want to encourage him chasing shadows!" Hermione argued, her voice rising. "You can't go running around acting on every gut feeling, not when it could—"
She caught herself too late.
"Not when it could what?" Ginny pressed, eyes narrowing.
Hermione's expression twisted. "Not when it could end up like last time. When he was wrong. When Sirius—"
The words cut the air like a curse. They fell into stunned silence.
Even Neville stared at her, mouth slightly open in disbelief.
Harry sat very still, his face blank, the firelight reflecting in his glasses.
Then he rose slowly to his feet, gaze locked on Hermione.
"Low blow, Hermione," he said quietly, his voice cold and calm in a way that made it worse.
He turned without waiting for a response.
"Come on, Ginny."
Ginny didn't spare Hermione another glance. She followed Harry without hesitation, slipping out of the portrait hole behind him, leaving Hermione standing there, pale and speechless.
….
The next days and weeks were filled with confusion for Harry. On one hand, he was undeniably the happiest he had ever been. His relationship with Ginny was blossoming, and he could hardly believe his luck.
Even though they had to be careful about their public behavior, Ginny's prediction had been right—the time they had alone in the mornings (no longer running, just hiding in the cozy living room the Room of Requirement had provided on their first day), the secret notes they passed at every meal, and the occasional sneaky meetings on the Quidditch pitch were more than enough. It all felt real.
Harry didn't even have to hide his better mood—when Neville or Ron asked about his sudden cheerfulness, he said it was because he finally had a proper home with Remus. And it wasn't even a lie. He was thrilled about the new home, but the main reason for his happiness was still Ginny.
On the other hand, the situation with Hermione was… Complicated. She recognized her mistake once the rumor spread—Malfoy had ended up in the hospital wing with some sort of mental breakdown. She had even tried to apologize sincerely. Repeatedly.
But Harry wasn't ready to hear it.
He knew he would forgive her—eventually. But not yet. Her words had reopened an old wound, stirring doubt and pain he thought he'd buried.
After several days of Hermione trying to make amends, he finally asked her to give him time.
So that's what Hermione did. She kept her distance, no longer sitting at the same table during meals, spending most of her time in the library, and usually heading straight to bed without saying a word.
Ron was stuck in the middle, unsure of what to do. One evening, he even joked they'd come full circle: there had been times Hermione wasn't speaking to Ron, leaving Harry as mediator. Then times Ron wasn't speaking to Harry, with Hermione in the middle. Once, even both boys had ignored Hermione.
But Ron being the one caught between Harry and Hermione? That was new.
Ron tried to help. He told Harry how awful Hermione felt after the fight, how she'd cried about it more than once. How terrified she'd been once she realized just how close Malfoy had come to succeeding. She had even gone so far as to ask Astoria Greengrass about Malfoy's condition, trying to understand how badly it had affected him.
But Harry still wouldn't budge.
He wasn't angry anymore, not really. The fury had burned out and left something heavier behind—sadness and hurt.
Still, Hermione keeping her distance made it easier for Harry and Ginny to keep their relationship a secret. If Hermione had been around, she would have seen through them immediately.
Ron, thankfully, remained oblivious to their lingering glances, and Neville was far too preoccupied with thoughts of his own crush to notice what was happening right under his nose.
Ginny's friends, on the other hand, were harder to fool. Demelza had practically been tracking Ginny's schedule, questioning every unaccounted-for moment. Colin had stopped asking, sensing Ginny wouldn't tell him anything, but Demelza was relentless.
"Seriously, Ginny!" she said, cornering her before bed. "You disappeared again this evening! And I saw Ron playing chess with Neville, and he said Harry was 'probably in the library.' Probably! This is, like, the fifth time this week you two have gone missing at the same time. Are you honestly trying to tell me it's all just a big coincidence?"
Ginny lay down on her bed, thinking hard about how to get out of the situation. The thing was, she felt guilty about lying to her best friend. She knew Demelza would keep a secret, and she'd been dying to share her happiness with someone since the very first kiss Harry gave her.
"All right!" Ginny said suddenly. "But you can't tell a soul—not even Colin."
"I would never!" Demelza replied, practically bouncing as she rushed over to Ginny's bed and plopped down beside her.
That made Ginny laugh. Still, she quickly checked that the dorm was empty, drew her curtains, and cast a Muffliato around them just in case.
"You're right," she whispered. "There's no coincidence. When I'm gone, I'm usually with Harry."
Demelza's eyes sparkled. "With Harry, huh. Doing what, exactly?"
Ginny lay back, watching her friend's face as she answered, trying not to grin too much. "Well… mostly snogging."
Demelza's eyes looked ready to pop out of her head. She shot up onto her knees and began bouncing on the bed excitedly.
"I knew it! I so knew it! Harry's been smiling all the time lately, and you're always giving him those looks! This is amazing, Ginny—congratulations!"
Ginny beamed. She was glad she'd decided to share the secret. It felt so good to finally talk about it with someone.
"Tell me everything! Who kissed who? When? Is he a good kisser? I bet he is—it's Potter—but is he?"
Ginny burst out laughing again at Demelza's rapid-fire questions, then launched into the story, telling her friend everything from the beginning.
Eventually, Demelza asked, a little more cautiously, "And… is it just snogging?"
Ginny shot her a look. "Merlin, Demelza. We've been together for like three weeks. Sure, I've had a crush on him since I was ten, but I'm not going to jump into bed with him after such a short time! Who do you think I am?"
Demelza raised her hands apologetically. "I didn't mean shagging! That'd be way too soon. I just meant… I dunno, touching?" she added, blushing.
Ginny snorted, remembering that awkward situation in Dumbledore's office—but she decided not to share that. After all, accidents didn't count, right?
"He's been… really thoughtful and noble about it," she said. "I kind of get the feeling that it'll be me who has to take the lead on anything new. But you know what? After everything I've heard from other girls, I think that's a win-win situation. Better than having to explain I don't want to do something."
Demelza nodded, clearly impressed.
The next morning, Ginny was already regretting her decision.
Not because she didn't trust Demelza—she absolutely did—but because her best friend had no chill.
The moment they stepped into the Great Hall for breakfast and spotted Harry already seated with Ron and Neville, Demelza let out a dramatic, breathy sigh.
Ginny elbowed her hard.
"Ow! I'm just looking!" Demelza hissed, grinning wildly.
"Look quieter," Ginny muttered under her breath, cheeks slightly pink.
They made their way to the table, and Ginny gave Harry a subtle smile as she sat down across from him. He returned it, just the right amount of casual for anyone not paying attention—but Demelza very much was paying attention.
She sat down beside Ginny, gave Harry a very obvious once-over, and said, "Morning, Harry!" in a tone that was just a little too chirpy.
Harry blinked. "Er… morning?"
Ginny stepped on her foot under the table.
Demelza bit her lip to keep from laughing, then reached for toast. "Nothing. Just in a very good mood today."
Across the table, Ron looked confused. "You're always cheerful. What's different?"
Ginny shot her friend a warning glare, but Demelza just shrugged innocently. "Oh, nothing. I just had the best talk last night. So enlightening."
"Enlightening?" Neville asked.
"Very," Demelza said, grinning into her pumpkin juice.
Harry was now giving Ginny a look, and she shook her head very slightly, mouthing, later.
Once breakfast was done and they were heading out, Harry caught Ginny's arm and pulled her a few steps behind the others. "What was that about?"
"She knows," Ginny whispered, glancing around. "I told her last night."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Voluntarily?"
"She's my best friend. And she was onto us anyway."
"Huh." He didn't sound angry—just surprised. Then he smirked. "She was kind of hilarious."
Ginny groaned. "She's going to be unbearable."
But Harry just leaned closer and murmured, "I like that she's happy for us."
Ginny smiled despite herself. "Yeah. Me too."
They walked the rest of the way in silence, trailing just behind their group—Demelza occasionally turning around to beam at them like a proud matchmaker.
….
Harry had reluctantly turned down Ginny's invitation to sneak away that evening. As tempting as it was to spend another cozy night in the Room of Requirement, he had really fallen behind on his homework. Even Ginny, though disappointed, had understood. "You better not be caught drooling over my name in your notes instead," she had teased before kissing him goodbye in the empty corridor outside the Gryffindor Tower.
Now, seated alone in the library, Harry found himself smiling at the memory. He still wasn't used to this feeling—that he had someone just for himself, someone who saw all of him and still wanted more. And Demelza's reaction this morning only added to it. She hadn't just kept Ginny's secret; she'd practically declared herself their bodyguard, already proposing excuses and distractions should someone go sniffing around Ginny's schedule.
"She's a good friend," Harry thought, absently flipping a page in his textbook. It made him think of friendships—what made them strong, what made them break.
His eyes wandered across the library and landed on a familiar bushy head. Hermione was seated alone, buried in a thick Arithmancy text, a half-empty ink pot beside her. There was nothing wrong with his table, it was quiet, empty, peaceful. But Harry closed his textbook anyway, slung his bag over his shoulder, and walked over to hers without thinking.
She looked up, startled, as he sat across from her. For a few minutes, they said nothing, the scratch of quills and rustle of parchment the only sound between them. Harry felt the tension hovering between them like a ghost—but it didn't hurt the same way anymore.
They both spoke at once.
"I'm sorry—"
"Hermione, I—"
Their words collided, and they froze, staring at each other for a beat. Then Hermione gave a shaky little laugh and looked down at her ink-stained fingers.
"You go first," Harry whispered.
Hermione took a steadying breath, her eyes still on her parchment as if the words would be easier to say without looking directly at him.
"I was cruel. And wrong. I let my fear get the better of me, and I said something unforgivable. You didn't deserve that, Harry—especially not from me." She finally looked up, her voice quieter. "I've been so ashamed, and I know an apology doesn't fix it… but I still needed to say it. I'm so sorry."
Harry was watching her with an unreadable expression.
"I'm not going to lie to you, Hermione. You hurt me. Deeply. Not just with what you said, but because you didn't take me seriously in the first place. I get that you had objections—but you always make it sound like anyone who disagrees with you must be mad. And… I didn't take that well."
Hermione gave him a watery smile, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"I was so sure that Malfoy couldn't be working for You-know-who… But I should've realized that he could be dangerous the moment you told me about the Vanishing Cabinet. I didn't connect the dots then, but after our fight, I came here to research. It's only after that, I realized just how serious things could've been. I started tracking him after that."
Hermione reached into her bag, pulling out a small notebook. She opened it to a page in the middle and handed it to Harry. There, in her neat handwriting, was a detailed timeline of Draco Malfoy's movements:
Sept. 21st, Sat - Harry and Ginny place the invisible ink
Sept. 22nd, Sun - Morning - The Vanishing Cabinet is found and destroyed
- Evening - Malfoy isn't in the Hall for dinner
Sept. 23rd, Mon - Morning - Malfoy isn't in Potions, heard Pansy say he's sick
- Evening - No sight of Malfoy
Sept. 24th, Tue - Morning - Heard Theodore Nott in Arithmancy saying Malfoy had a breakdown
- Evening - Went to the infirmary, said I need a potion for cramps - Malfoy wasn't there
The rest of the page was filled with detailed entries, every day's notes about Malfoy's absence and unusual behavior after the day he showed his pale and anxious face again after a week of silence.
"I think I may have overdone it," Hermione chuckled. "But Ginny told me you went to Dumbledore about this, and Malfoy hadn't got expelled, he didn't even have detention. So, I decided to keep an eye on him, especially while you were… well, otherwise occupied."
Harry raised his eyebrows at her words but said nothing. Hermione smiled gently at him.
"We don't have to talk about that," she added quickly. "I know you don't want to confide in me now. I just wanted you to know that I figured it out, and I'm here for you. If you ever need any... girl advice, or anything else."
It took Harry a moment, but he nodded appreciatively. Of course Hermione had known, maybe even from the very start. She kept the secret, even from Ron. It was something Harry wasn't sure he could've done in her shoes, and he was grateful for it.
"Thanks, Hermione," he said softly.
"You seem really happy," she said with warm tone.
Harry couldn't help but smile at her. "I am," he replied simply.
"That's good. You deserve it," Hermione added, her voice genuine.
Harry looked back down at the book, scanning through the entries quickly. "So, Malfoy had a fight with Snape?"
"Well, according to Zabini. He was talking to Padma about it — do you know they're dating? Anyway, he said Snape invited Malfoy to his office, but Malfoy wouldn't go, so Snape had to go to the Slytherin Common Room to get him. Apparently, Malfoy was yelling that he wasn't going anywhere with Snape. He's lost a lot of respect among the Slytherins lately, even Crabbe and Goyle have stopped hanging around him."
"That only makes him even more dangerous," Harry said, his voice grim.
Hermione nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting the same concern. "Exactly. He's isolated, angry... and that's exactly when people like him are the most unpredictable."
….
The next day Harry and Ginny met in the early morning as usual and went straight to the Room of Requirement, not even pretending they intended to go on a run. The nights were already longer, and by the time they met it was still dark outside—but they hadn't changed the time of their meetings. Their alone time was too precious to waste.
The room greeted them with its usual comforting magic: a small window letting in just enough early morning moonlight, a flickering candle or two, and the familiar scent of cinnamon and old books. A cozy blanket had already appeared over the couch, as if the Room knew they needed warmth more than anything else.
Ginny curled up beside Harry, her toes tucked under his legs, and leaned her head on his shoulder. For a while, they just sat in silence, listening to each other's breathing.
"You know," Ginny murmured, "we really are rubbish at pretending we're just running."
Harry chuckled. "At least we still wear the trainers. That counts for something."
She laughed softly, then reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his. "It's Hogsmeade weekend in a fortnight."
"I know," Harry said, gently brushing his thumb over hers. "I was hoping you'd say something."
Ginny raised an eyebrow. "You were?"
He nodded. "I was trying to come up with a way we could sneak off without anyone noticing. Might need the Cloak. Or… we could both 'accidentally' end up browsing the same section in Scrivenshaft's."
Ginny smirked. "So romantic."
"Well, it's not quite Madame Puddifoot's," he said dryly, "but I figured you'd prefer not to be surrounded by heart-shaped confetti."
"You know me well, Potter."
She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and they fell into a comfortable silence again.
Then Harry added, more serious now, "I've missed this. I mean, we've only got a few moments like this a day, and it's not enough. I wish we didn't have to sneak around."
Ginny squeezed his hand. "We will, one day. But until then… we have this."
He looked at her, at the way her hair glowed in the low light, and he felt something stir in his chest—a quiet kind of joy that made everything else feel distant.
And for a little while longer, they just stayed like that, wrapped in warmth and each other.
By the time they left the Room of Requirement, the sun had just begun to rise, casting a soft golden hue over the grounds. Harry and Ginny walked side by side, occasionally bumping shoulders and exchanging sleepy smiles. They parted in the corridor outside the Great Hall with a lingering look and a quiet "See you after classes."
They had decided to sit separately not to draw attention to their blossoming relationship, a decision the both regretted.
The Great Hall was already half full when Harry slipped in and sat next to Ron, who was halfway through a plate of eggs and muttering something about not having enough sausages. Hermione, sitting across from them, gave Harry a warm smile, which he returned with a nod.
Things between them were mending, slowly but surely.
It was shaping up to be an ordinary day—at least, it seemed that way.
The trouble began in their third class of the day: Defense Against the Dark Arts, the second of two classes they had with Slytherins.
Snape was teaching them basic shielding charm, something Harry'd covered in DA lessons last year, so majority of the Gryffindor students had no trouble casting it - the only one struggling was Neville, who was still terrified of their professor, which showed itself with his ability to concentrate in his classes.
But even Neville casted at least some shield, even though it wasn't particularly strong.
Snape reluctantly awarded Gryffindor with five points and then turned his attention to Slytherins.
"Mr. Malfoy," he said silkily, "perhaps you'd care to demonstrate."
Draco didn't move.
He stood stiffly beside his desk, eyes unfocused, wand hanging limply in his hand. Blaise Zabini, seated next to him, nudged his elbow, but Draco didn't react.
"Mr. Malfoy," Snape repeated, voice sharper now. "A simple Shield Charm. Or is that beyond you today?"
Draco's hand trembled as he finally raised his wand, but instead of casting, he hissed, "You think this matters? You think any of this matters?"
A hush fell over the room.
Snape's eyes narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"
Draco's breathing had grown shallow, erratic. He looked around wildly, like he was only now realizing he was surrounded by classmates. "What's the point?" he barked. "What's the bloody point of learning spells when—when—"
His voice cracked.
Several students exchanged nervous glances. Even the Slytherins were frozen, unsure whether to intervene or retreat.
"Draco," Snape said, voice low, warning. "Control yourself."
But Draco wasn't listening anymore. His eyes had locked onto the wall, vacant and distant. His wand clattered to the floor as he stepped back, clutching at his left arm like it was burning.
Harry felt a cold chill run down his spine.
Snape moved toward him quickly now, muttering something under his breath. "Class dismissed," he snapped at the rest. "Out. Now."
No one argued. Bags were grabbed, chairs scraped the floor, and the students scrambled to the door, throwing uneasy glances behind them. Harry lingered just long enough to see Snape steer Draco—who was now trembling—toward the back room, a protective hand on his shoulder.