The Honest Approach
The castle was quiet that night, the soft hush of snow falling outside adding to the stillness. Harry sat in the empty common room, staring into the fire as his thoughts churned. He hadn’t meant to upset Hermione, but everything felt so... tangled.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Harry turned to see Professor Lupin standing in the doorway. He had returned to Hogwarts for a short teaching stint, much to Harry’s relief.
“I think I’ve messed things up,” Harry admitted.
Lupin raised an eyebrow. “With Hermione?”
Harry flushed. “How did you—”
“You wear your heart on your sleeve, Harry,” Lupin said gently, sitting down beside him. “Tell me what happened.”
Harry explained everything—his growing feelings for Hermione, the misunderstanding with Ginny, and the party.
Lupin listened quietly, then smiled. “Harry, you’ve faced dangers most people can’t imagine. Surely you can manage an honest conversation with Hermione.”
Harry hesitated. “What if it changes things? What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”
“And what if she does?” Lupin countered. “You’ll never know unless you’re brave enough to find out.”
Later that evening, Harry found Hermione sitting by the fire, her knees drawn to her chest as she read. She looked up as he approached, her expression softening.
“Hi,” he said, his voice quiet.
“Hi,” she replied, closing her book. “You’re up late.”
“I needed to talk to you,” Harry said, sitting beside her. His heart was pounding, but he pushed forward. “I like you, Hermione. More than a friend. And I know I might be wrong, but I had to tell you.”
Hermione stared at him, her eyes wide. Then, slowly, she smiled—a brilliant, radiant smile that made his heart skip a beat.
“Harry, I thought you liked Ginny,” she admitted, her cheeks turning pink.
“Ginny?” Harry laughed. “She’s like a sister to me.”
Hermione laughed too, relief washing over her. “And Viktor is just a friend. There’s no one else but you.”
Without thinking, Harry reached for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers before she intertwined them. Her skin was warm, and the simple gesture made his chest tighten with emotion.
“You know,” she teased, leaning closer, “for someone who’s defeated Dark wizards, you’re surprisingly clueless.”
Harry smirked. “I’m making up for it now.”
He leaned in slightly, their faces inches apart. Hermione’s hand moved to his arm, her fingers trailing lightly over the fabric of his sleeve. The air between them was electric, charged with possibilities.
“You’re not so bad at this,” Hermione murmured, her eyes shining with mischief.
“Not so bad, huh?” Harry replied, his voice low. “Wait until I really try.”
They laughed softly, the firelight casting warm shadows on their faces as they settled into an easy, affectionate rhythm—teasing, flirting, and enjoying the start of something new.