Chapter 14
The week had passed in a haze of confusion and quiet self-reflection for Hermione. The kiss—if you could even call it that—had lingered in her mind, both a blessing and a curse. Every time she thought about it, her heart raced and her stomach fluttered, a storm of emotions that she wasn’t sure how to navigate.
At first, she had hoped it would all fade away, that things would return to normal if she just kept a distance from Percy. She’d avoided him in the hallways, declined any unnecessary meetings, and worked overtime to make sure they never had the opportunity to speak privately. She had buried herself in paperwork, trying to drown out the thoughts of that moment, of how his lips had brushed against hers, how it had felt like something more than just a brief touch.
But as the days dragged on, the avoidance became harder to sustain. It wasn’t just the kiss; it was the way everything between them had shifted in the aftermath, how they both seemed to tiptoe around each other, unsure of what to say or do. Every time their paths crossed, there was an unspoken tension hanging between them, thick and palpable. She could feel it in the way Percy’s eyes followed her when she entered a room.
And then, it was Monday morning again. The first day of the new week, the day Hermione had promised herself she would focus on work and forget about everything else. She had arrived early, as usual, with a fresh stack of reports to sort through. It was supposed to be another ordinary day, just like any other.
Except it wasn’t.
By the time the clock struck ten, Hermione could feel the heavy weight of Percy’s gaze from the doorway. She had been half-expecting him to come in, but she had tried her best to ignore the feeling, to pretend that she was too busy to notice. She buried her head in her work, the scratch of her quill against parchment echoing in the quiet office. But then the door clicked shut with an unnerving finality.
Hermione froze, her quill pausing mid-sentence. She looked up, her eyes wide with surprise, as Percy stepped into the room, his expression set in that familiar determined line. He didn’t say a word at first, just crossed the room with purposeful strides, and locked the door behind him with a soft click that made her heart skip.
The silence stretched between them like a taut rope, both of them standing there, neither of them knowing what to do next. Percy’s gaze never wavered, and for a long moment, Hermione couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. She wanted to say something—anything—but the words seemed to be stuck somewhere deep in her chest. Her mind was racing, her heart pounding, but all she could do was sit there, silently watching as Percy walked towards her desk.
He stopped just a few feet away, leaning against the edge of her desk, his posture straight, but there was an undeniable air of frustration surrounding him. His eyes were piercing as they locked onto hers, and for a moment, Hermione felt as if he could see right through her—right through all the walls she had tried to build up around herself.
“Enough, Hermione,” Percy’s voice was low, but there was a bite to it, a sharpness that made her sit up straighter. “I’m done with this. I’m done with the distance, with the pretending that nothing happened.”
Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected him to be so blunt, so direct. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words died on her lips. She couldn’t find the right thing to say, couldn’t explain why she had been avoiding him, why she had been so afraid to face him after that kiss.
“Don’t try to deny it,” Percy continued, his tone steady but with an undercurrent of frustration that was hard to ignore. “You’ve been avoiding me all week. You haven’t returned my owls, you’ve been dodging every chance we’ve had to talk. What are you so scared of, Hermione?”
She opened her mouth again, but still nothing came out. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, the guilt and confusion welling up inside her. She had tried to bury everything, to pretend it hadn’t meant anything, but the truth was, she didn’t know what it meant. She didn’t know how to deal with what had happened between them.
Percy straightened up slightly, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer to her desk. “You know, for someone who prides herself on being logical, you’re being incredibly evasive. Just talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in that brilliant head of yours, because I’m getting tired of guessing.”
The vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard. It wasn’t the usual confident, meticulous Percy. This was a version of him she hadn’t seen before—open, exposed, and waiting for her to say something, anything, to explain what had happened.
Hermione’s hands gripped the edges of her desk, her fingers trembling slightly. She hated this—hated the uncertainty, hated the way she felt like she was standing on the edge of something she didn’t understand. But more than that, she hated that she couldn’t just come out and say what was really on her mind. She couldn’t admit that, despite all her attempts to distance herself, she was just as confused and affected by that kiss as he was.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” Hermione finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper. She wasn’t even sure if Percy heard her, but he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stepped around the desk, his movements deliberate, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Then let me help you figure it out,” he said softly, his voice low, but full of determination. “Hermione, I’m not asking you to have all the answers. I’m not asking for you to know what happens next. But I’m done waiting for you to figure it out on your own. I need to know what we’re doing here, because this—” he gestured between them “—this has been killing me. I can’t keep pretending like we’re just coworkers anymore.”
Hermione felt her throat tighten. His words hit harder than she expected, each one cutting through the fog of confusion that had settled in her mind. She didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to make him feel like he was just a distraction in her life, but she had no idea what was happening between them. She wasn’t ready to label it, to make any sort of decision. But Percy wasn’t giving her that luxury anymore.
“I just…” she began, then stopped herself. She didn’t even know how to finish the sentence.
Percy sighed, his frustration momentarily giving way to something softer—something that felt almost like a plea. “Please, Hermione. Don’t keep shutting me out. I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”
The words hung in the air between them, and for the first time that week, Hermione allowed herself to breathe. She could feel the walls she had built up slowly starting to crumble, and she knew—somehow—that this was the conversation that needed to happen. Whether she was ready for it or not.
Taking a deep breath, she finally met his gaze, her voice trembling slightly. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Percy. I don’t know what this is… what this means. I’m scared. I’m scared of what’s happening between us, and I’m scared of how I feel about you. But I can’t keep running away from it either.”
Percy’s expression softened, and for the first time in a week, she saw the familiar warmth in his eyes again. “Then let’s stop running,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Let’s figure this out together.”