"I love the Weasleys, Hermione, you know that… If it weren't for them, I wouldn't even have come back to Hogwarts in second year." He paused, eyes fixed on an invisible point ahead.

"But after Fred died, I kept wondering… wouldn't they have been better off if they'd never met me?"

Hermione furrowed her brow slightly, her heart tightening at those words.

"Ron helped me a bit… said the fight was all of ours, that no one blamed me. But even so… deep down, I feel like I failed them. Like I brought too much pain to a family that only ever gave me love."

Hermione shifted slowly, until her knee touched his. It was a small gesture, almost imperceptible, but it was her way of saying "I'm here" without interrupting.

"What you're feeling, Harry… it's called survivor's guilt," she said softly, looking at him with a mix of understanding and sadness. "It happens when someone goes through something really hard… and lives, while others don't get the same chance. And then you start asking yourself why. Why me? Why not them?"

Harry remained silent, but his breathing grew a bit heavier.

"You didn't cause what happened. No one died because of you. People fought because they believed in something greater. They believed the world could be different… and they believed in you." She tilted her head slightly, trying to catch his eyes.

"Fred was joking until the very end, Harry. He chose to fight. We all did. And no one would ever blame you for that."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, as if struggling to hold something back.

"It's just… I'm the last Potter."

His gaze drifted, his brown eyes darkened by the shadow of a distant thought. There was something broken in them as if, even with Hermione beside him, he was far away.

"If I die, the Potter family ends. All that will be left is a legacy built on tragedy, forgotten in fifty years… or whenever the next threat shows up in the wizarding world."

Harry pulled his legs in, hugging his knees to his chest, as if trying to keep something inside, silent and contained. His eyes were now fixed on the floor, avoiding any contact.

"I should've accepted those marriage proposals. At least then, someone would've shared the Potter name, someone who could carry it on… something. Instead of coming back to Hogwarts, maybe I should've built a home. Made sure my family wouldn't vanish."

Hermione said nothing. She had known Harry for years long enough to recognize when he was slipping into thoughts he wouldn't speak aloud. Family had never been a deep topic between them, but now, before her, was a wounded, exhausted friend in need of support.

"Harry, you're not in a race against time," said Hermione gently, brushing the hair from his forehead with a tender gesture. "You just saved the world. You're still only seventeen. So am I. All these years at Hogwarts, and we still know so little… School never taught us how to deal with all this. And marrying someone you don't even know isn't going to fill that void you're feeling. Deep down, you know that. You deserve so much more, Harry. And maybe Hogwarts can help you figure out what that more is."

He lifted his eyes slowly, letting his knees fall as he stretched his legs. He still didn't speak, but his expression had changed less tense, more open. Hermione always knew how to fill the empty spaces in his head.

"I guess I got a bit paranoid about all this," he muttered, forcing a weak smile. "And for starters, I doubt Hogwarts has any books about relationships, Hermione… if that's what you're thinking."

Hermione chuckled quietly, and Harry joined her, his smile more genuine this time. She then wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. He said nothing, just let himself be held, accepting the simple gesture like someone who finally finds stillness after drifting too long.

For a few minutes, there were no words. Just human warmth and comfortable silence. When they pulled apart, still shoulder to shoulder, they looked toward the television with a faint smile.

"Where did you learn to handle these things, Hermione?" Harry asked, adjusting his glasses.

"In the library, silly!" she said with a light laugh. "You just don't know how to look properly."

Harry laughed with her. Hermione's jokes always made him laugh, even in the worst moments.

"But you know, Harry… now that we're back at Hogwarts, my advice is to be more upfront with girls. Books won't help much in that department."

"Excuse me?" said Harry, frowning with a confused look.

"I heard Cho Chang is coming back to Hogwarts this year," said Hermione, flipping through her Ancient Runes book again. "You and her… well, you had that thing in fifth year, remember? That terrible Valentine's Day. Maybe now's the time to reconnect?"

"Me? Talk to Cho Chang?" said Harry, surprised, his cheeks flushing slightly. "That's ancient history, Hermione… I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why not?" Hermione asked naturally. "You used to talk about her all the time. Always said she was pretty. And she was your first girlfriend, wasn't she? Okay, it didn't last long, but you did go out on Valentine's Day."

"That was a different time, Hermione," he replied, a melancholic tone in his voice. "She smiled at me during a Quidditch match and I fell in love. I was thirteen. She was the first girl who smiled at me like that… I think."

"She's still the same, Harry. Maybe a conversation now, with both of you older, could be nice. And, well… she's still pretty," Hermione added, trying not to seem too involved in the suggestion.

"That's not enough anymore, Hermione. When we're younger, pretty faces mean everything… but we learn that it's not enough to sustain a relationship. Besides… there are other girls prettier than Cho."

"Oh, really?" Hermione raised an eyebrow with a teasing smile. "And which girl would be prettier than Cho Chang in Harry Potter's eyes?"

"Well…" Harry stammered, not knowing where to hide. "You, Hermione. And besides being pretty, you're smart, loyal, thoughtful, and… everything else. Don't make me say it all."

Hermione quickly lifted her book to hide her flushed face. She was completely red and couldn't look at Harry at that moment.

"But Cho's smart too, Harry!" she said, her voice trembling behind the book. "She's in Ravenclaw, has excellent marks!"

"You don't get it, Hermione…" Harry sighed. "Yeah, she's smart. But… there aren't girls like you."

As he said that, his eyes drifted to the empty armchair beside them. Not even he could look at her after such a bold comment.

Only silence filled the room for the next few seconds. The muffled sound of the news continued playing on the TV in the background, but it was as if it had been swallowed by the weight of the moment. Harry's heart pounded hard, almost too loud for his own ears. He tried to gather the courage to say something, to look Hermione in the eyes again, but his mind was lost in chaos.

"Why did I have to say that? Now, of all times? What do I do? What do I say?"

Before he could form a single word, he heard the soft sound of the book being set down on the table, followed by light footsteps approaching. Hermione leaned gently toward his side, and he felt the warm touch of her breath brushing against his skin. When she spoke, her voice was low, intimate, like a secret being whispered:

"You see, Harry? You're not that bad with girls after all. You know how to compliment, you know how to be kind... and you don't even notice it. I hope that helps you stop being so hard on yourself."

Then, without any warning, she pressed her lips gently to his cheek. A simple gesture, but for Harry it felt like a spark igniting a fire. The touch of her lips on his skin coursed through his body like a wave of electricity, a warm and comforting sensation, as if he had just taken a dose of Felix Felicis.

Hermione pulled away slowly but kept her gaze fixed on his eyes. She was a little flushed, it was true, but nothing compared to the deep pink that had spread across Harry's cheeks.

"You're amazing, Harry. Don't forget that, okay? I might not have all the answers to what your heart is going through... but I truly hope that being by your side helps ease at least some of it."

Harry just stared at her, unmoving. He slowly brought his hand to the cheek she'd kissed, still feeling the warmth of that moment. He was embarrassed, of course, but it was a good kind of embarrassment, different. He didn't want to run away or break the mood. He wanted it to last, for time to stop just a little longer.

"Thank you, Hermione" he said, voice trembling. He wanted to say more, to do something, maybe hug her, maybe... something else. But he didn't want to ruin it. So he just stood there, looking at her as if trying to memorize that moment.

Hermione then stepped away slowly, adjusted her hair and picked up the book on ancient runes from the table. With her other hand, she grabbed the remote and turned off the television.

"It's late, isn't it? We were talking and didn't even realize the time. I bet Mr and Mrs Weasley decided to stay with George... since they haven't come back."

"Oh, right... maybe they thought he could use the company" Harry replied, standing up slowly and adjusting his glasses. Then he stuffed his hands into his pockets, an unconscious attempt to hide his nervousness. "So... you're leaving? I mean, you can... stay, if you want."

Hermione turned to him, smiling gently.

"I was actually thinking about that. We can just leave Ron right there on the sofa. I don't think even the two of us together could carry him up to his room. He'll have to settle for the couch."

She took a few steps toward the living room door, pausing to glance sideways at him.

"Is the guest room free?"

"It is" Harry replied, with a shy smile. "Molly always keeps everything ready for visitors. You won't even recognize some of the rooms... we replaced the old furniture and redid everything. And Mrs Weasley even enchanted the rooms with a charm that makes the air smell lightly of lavender. It's... pretty cozy. Let me show you."

They climbed the stairs side by side, their soft footsteps muffled by the old carpet lining the steps. The hallway was wrapped in a peaceful dimness. When they reached the guest room door, Harry stopped beside Hermione, reluctant to end the night.

"Well... this is the room. Molly left some clean clothes in the wardrobe, if you need them. And there's water and towels in the bathroom... anyway, if you need anything, my room is the last one at the end of the hall. You can call me."

Hermione nodded, her eyes shining warmly.

"Thank you, Harry. For everything today."

He just smiled, speechless. Hermione walked in, casting one last look before gently closing the door behind her.

Harry stood still for a moment, staring at the closed door. His heart was still racing, but now there was a different feeling, almost serene. He walked quietly down the hall and entered his own room. He sat on the bed, took off his glasses and set them on the nightstand.

He lay down, staring at the ceiling.

"What was all of that?" he wondered. "Why did it feel so right? So... good?"

He felt something new, a warmth that didn't come from the kiss, but from her presence. Hermione wasn't just a friend anymore. She was someone who made him feel seen, understood, whole. And that, for Harry, was rare. Maybe even unprecedented.

"Do I... like her? More than just as a friend?"

He turned on his side, pulling the blanket up to his chin, still catching the faint scent of lavender in the air. A soft smile formed on his lips. For the first time in a long while, he fell asleep without the weight of the world on his shoulders, only with the warm memory of a friend's kiss... who maybe was much more than that.

Even lying down, eyes closed and body tucked under the covers, Harry couldn't sleep. The silence of the house was comfortable, but his mind wouldn't stop. The image of Hermione by his side, so close, returned with almost painful clarity.

"Hermione's always been here. From the start. Always supporting me, always understanding me before I could even say anything."

He remembered the way she looked at him before kissing his cheek. It hadn't been just affection. There was something more. Something he might have been ignoring for far too long.

"She knows me better than anyone. She knows when I'm pretending to be fine, knows what to say to calm me down. And today... today was different. It meant more."

He thought of the little details. The way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's nervous. The way she bites her lower lip when she's thinking. The way his name sounds lighter when it comes from her lips.

"Does she feel the same? Was that kiss just... friendship? Or did she want me to understand something more?"

Harry squeezed the pillow gently and shifted in bed.

"I never really thought about it. About... the two of us. But now I can't stop. What if... what if the answer was always right there?"

Harry's thoughts flooded his mind like a current he couldn't hold back. The quiet room, wrapped in the faint scent of lavender, so warm just moments ago, now seemed to echo even louder with the weight of what had just happened. The image of Hermione so close, her gentle and determined gaze, her sweet words and the soft kiss on his cheek, it all left him restless. Was she thinking about him too, right now? Was Hermione lying in the next room, staring at the ceiling, wondering what that moment had meant? He didn't know, and not knowing, that's what tormented him the most.

Maybe he was reading too much into it, fooling himself with gestures of affection that had always been part of their friendship. But he couldn't deny how much that kiss had stirred something in him. It was like time had stopped, like for a brief second, everything made sense. Hermione had always been by his side, since their first year at Hogwarts, facing danger, confronting fear, and now, she was still there. Even after everything, after the war, after the end. And with her, there was always this feeling of belonging, something beyond safety, it was almost like being home.

Harry turned in bed, trying to nestle into the mattress and find a more comfortable position, but his mind refused to quiet. He knew that if this went on, he'd be up all night. He shut his eyes tightly, as if that could somehow push the thoughts away. Maybe, if he stayed still long enough, sleep would come. Tomorrow, he'd think of something to say to Hermione, something that wouldn't ruin what they had, but that would be honest enough to show what was starting to grow inside him. Because deep down, Harry knew, something had changed, and as frightening as it was, maybe it was time to let that feeling bloom.