Chapter 11
In the Gryffindor common room, the fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow on the faces of students who seemed at ease, chatting and laughing. People gathered around the tables, exchanging jokes and stories. Ron Weasley sat alone near the fire, his eyes sparkling with pride, while Harry Potter sat across from him, absorbed in the book in his hands. The atmosphere between them was quiet, but Ron couldn’t stop bragging about the previous night.
“Harry, you won’t believe it!” Ron started, his voice filled with excitement. “Lavender kept following me around. She asked me all sorts of things, like I’m the only one who can make her happy.” Ron laughed, looking incredibly smug. “I had to rescue her from a group of Slytherins, and now she follows me like a shadow.”
Harry glanced at his friend, a small smile tugging at his lips but lacking enthusiasm. He replied lightly, “Oh? Did you enjoy it?”
Ron went on, his voice rising with pride: “Lavender made me dinner, said I deserve to be pampered. Of course, I think I do!”
Harry, trying to organize the mess of books next to him, looked up at Ron with a touch of sarcasm. “So… what did she make? Burnt bread or salty soup?”
“You don’t get it, Harry. Lavender is a special girl. She’s not like the others at school. She understands me, better than anyone else, and I… well, I can’t deny that I enjoy it,” Ron said, tilting his chin up, looking even more arrogant. “Yesterday, she said I’m the only one who can make her feel… happy.”
Harry didn’t respond right away, occasionally glancing at Ron, feeling little interest. He sighed before speaking. “Don’t you think she’s just trying to please you? You’re just friends, after all.”
Ron continued, now mocking Harry. “Harry, honestly, you should learn from me. If you keep going like this, I think you’ll never know what love feels like, not until the end of your life.”
“Yeah, I don’t get it,” Harry laughed, his tone clearly unaffected by Ron’s taunts. “If ‘love’ for you means listening to Lavender giggling all day, then I’ll happily stay single.”
Ron refused to stop, still boasting, completely unaware of Harry’s lack of enthusiasm. “She even invited me to go out for a walk tonight, said she wanted me to explain some things. But I don’t know, maybe it won’t just be an ordinary evening, Harry,” Ron winked at his friend, trying to make the story sound more exciting. “I’m sure Lavender will make everything special. Like another dinner, perhaps.”
Harry sighed, burying his face in his hands. “Ron, you’re being too cocky. We both know Lavender’s just trying to impress your mum. Who doesn’t know Mrs. Weasley likes clever, domesticated girls?”
Ron stood firm, his eyes brimming with arrogance as he turned toward Harry. He paced around the table, continuing to ramble on.
Ron smirked, brushing his red hair back. “So what? I’m sure Ginny never did that with you, right? Poor Harry.”
Harry’s anger flared this time, his brows furrowed. “Ron, Ginny’s your sister! And I love Ginny, Ron. But you and Lavender? Don’t get your hopes up. You’re just leading her to believe in a love that doesn’t even exist.”
“What if we’re not together yet? She treats me like a king, Harry,” Ron’s face flushed, his hair sticking up in excitement. “You’re just jealous of me! You’ve always been the center of attention, and now you don’t want me to have that, do you?”
Harry rubbed his forehead. “No, Ron. I’ve never wanted attention. And I’m happy for you, but you’re just being too... arrogant,” Harry looked at Ron with pained eyes.
Harry had never wanted attention. The title of “The Boy Who Lived” only brought him sorrow and loss. His parents were gone, danger was always lurking—who would crave attention like that?
Meanwhile, Ron was basking in the attention for a moment, becoming arrogant over it. Attention from a girl wanting him to care. An unclear love that would only bring both of them pain.
“You’ll never understand how it feels. When you’re me, someone who’s always looked down upon, you’ll realize how happy it can make you to be noticed,” Ron stormed off, slamming the door behind him.
Harry held his head in his hands, feeling the weight of loneliness consume him. His fear grew stronger. “How can I understand what you’re feeling, Ron? You have a family, siblings. I don’t have that. How could I understand? I had to trade my parents for attention. How could I ever understand your feeling, Ron?”
The darkness engulfed him. The fire in the hearth couldn’t chase away the loneliness. Harry wished, just once, that he could live like Ron—having a complete family, far from all the eyes on him.
–––––––––
Harry opened his eyes, the coldness from the hard chair jolting him awake. He couldn’t remember how long he had been asleep, only feeling groggy and aching in his back. His eyes immediately found Hermione, sitting silently in the chair across from him. She didn’t turn to look at him, didn’t say anything, just holding a cup in her hand, sipping it slowly, her face expressionless, betraying no emotions.
The silence in the room was still, only the crackling fire occasionally breaking it, casting long shadows on the walls. The quietness hung heavy in the room, but Harry felt her presence—no words, just a silent yet powerful presence.
Harry rubbed his eyes again, the exhaustion from his argument with Ron still lingering. He sat up straight, sighed deeply, and then spoke. “When did you get back, Mione?”
She didn’t look at him, pouring more wine into her glass. “Not long ago. Why are you out here?”
“I just had another row with Ron… same old stuff, you know,” his voice was low, dry, tinged with obvious fatigue. “Ron never understands me. He keeps bragging about Lavender like the whole world should be paying attention to him.”
Hermione didn’t move, keeping her cold exterior. She lifted the cup to her lips, took another sip, and set it down on the table without looking at Harry. Only when she spoke did her voice remain even, emotionless. “Arguing with Ron only makes things worse, Harry,” Hermione said, her eyes still fixed on the fire. “He’s always like this. His ego’s too big to ever see things from another perspective.”
Harry sighed, the sting of Hermione’s words soothing the frustration inside him. He didn’t want to always be the angry one, but Ron made him feel that way. “You don’t get it,” Harry continued, his voice hardening. “Every time we argue like this, it feels like I lose a piece of something. Something I can’t get back.”
Hermione didn’t reply immediately, her silence stretched out for a long moment. She understood him better than anyone else, but didn’t know how to offer hollow words of comfort. Finally, she spoke in a brief, yet enough to make Harry feel he wasn’t alone. “Maybe you’re creating a shadow for yourself,” she said, her voice calm and light. “When you try too hard for someone to understand you, sometimes it just makes everything more confusing.”
Harry looked at her, the understanding in her eyes making him feel a little lighter. Hermione stared at the fire, but her eyes seemed distant, as if seeing something far beyond, like she understood the complexities of relationships without needing to speak much. “Ron can only see things through his own eyes. You can try explaining, but in the end, he’ll only understand what he wants to understand,” she continued, her tone still even, but with a clear sense of understanding in her every word.
“So what about you?” Harry asked, his voice softer now, no longer filled with frustration or tension. “Do you ever feel like you’re trying to please everyone and never succeeding?”
Hermione didn’t answer immediately, just sighed deeply before turning to look at Harry. “I don’t care about that, honestly,” she replied, her gaze cold but not without understanding. “I’m used to people not understanding me. Sometimes, I just want to live without having to explain myself to anyone.”
Harry looked at her, a strange feeling emerging in his chest. Every time he faced her, he felt a distance, but now, in this silence, they were sharing things without saying a word. “Thanks,” Harry said quietly. “At least you always know how to make me feel like I’m not alone.”
Hermione glanced at him, no smile on her lips, but her gaze seemed to offer him the comfort she hadn’t spoken aloud. “Don’t think things will get easier,” she said, her voice still cold, but with some warmth hidden beneath. “But at least you’ve found some understanding.”
Harry just looked at her, feeling a little lighter from her words. No matter how bad things got, no matter how many arguments would continue, at least for now, he didn’t feel like the only one struggling with these complicated relationships.
It was late at night, and the atmosphere in the Gryffindor common room had fallen into a deep silence. Harry glanced at Hermione, who was still sitting across from him, unusually calm, her gaze never leaving him as if waiting for an explanation.
He took a deep breath and began, not holding anything back. "You know, I've been suspicious of Draco. There's something off about what he's doing, and I think he's hiding something." He blinked, leaning back in his chair, trying to clear his mind. "So, I decided to follow him. Just follow him around, observe his every move. Maybe I'll find something."
Hermione didn't respond immediately. She remained silent, her eyes steady, showing no emotion. She didn't speak right away, simply taking a slow sip of her drink as though contemplating the words that had just been spoken.
Finally, she spoke, her voice calm but unhurried. "Really?" Hermione asked, her tone showing no surprise. "So, you think following Draco will solve anything?"
Harry paused, momentarily taken aback by the question. "I think, if I find a clue, I'll know what's going on. Draco isn't who you think he is, Hermione. He's always doing strange things, actions that I can't ignore."
Hermione took another sip of her drink, not rushing to answer. She studied him, her eyes devoid of anything but a cold understanding. "And do you really think Draco will let you find that clue?" Her question wasn't one of doubt but curiosity, layered with hidden meaning. "Do you honestly believe he'll allow you to see what he’s trying to hide?"
Harry fell silent, sensing the complexity in her words. Hermione always had a way of seeing things deeper than he expected. He wasn't sure if Draco would leave any traces, but the thought made him uneasy.
"You’re right," Harry admitted, looking down at his hands. "Maybe I won't find anything. But I can't not try."
Hermione set her glass down, fixing him with a sharp look. "You know, sometimes searching only pulls you deeper into things you can't control." Her voice was steady, but there was a depth Harry couldn't quite grasp. "Don't forget, the more you search, the more disappointed you'll be with the results."
Harry looked back at her, feeling confused. "So, what do you think I should do? Stay silent and wait for everything to happen on its own?"
Hermione smiled softly, but the smile was not one of comfort. "Not silence," she said, "patience." She took another sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving him. "Some things only come to light when you stop looking."
Harry couldn't help but feel uneasy. Her words only made him more confused. "Patience? But I can't just sit here knowing something's wrong. I can't just watch. So many people have died because of Voldemort."
Hermione didn't answer right away. She looked at him with an unnerving calm, as if she was assessing him, reading his thoughts. Finally, she spoke, her words carrying a hidden weight that Harry struggled to understand. "Harry, sometimes, our impatience is what throws everything into chaos." She stared at him, her gaze unwavering. "And sometimes, what you think is the biggest secret is just something simple we've never seen."
Harry felt himself caught in a spiral of thoughts he couldn't untangle. "I don't understand," he admitted, a feeling of being lost overwhelming him.
Hermione sighed quietly, as if there was nothing complicated in what she'd just said. "You shouldn’t make things more complicated," she replied, her voice even. "Everything is right in front of you, very close."
Harry stared at her for a long moment, something in her tone making him feel like the truth was right before his eyes, something he'd missed. He wasn't sure if Hermione knew everything, but in that moment, he felt an odd trust in her.
"So, what do you think I should do next?" Harry asked, feeling a little clearer, though still uncertain.
Hermione didn't answer immediately. She stood up and walked over to the window, the light from the fire in the room casting a glow on her face. She turned to look at him, and a smile briefly crossed her lips, though it wasn't one of happiness. "Harry, sometimes, what you overlook is the answer you’ve been looking for." She spoke slowly, her words filled with meaning. "And when you realize that, everything will become clear."
Harry felt her words lingering in his mind, swirling around him. He couldn't fully understand, but he knew he could trust her. Hermione’s eyes met his, and in them, he understood that she knew things he had yet to see.
And in that moment, despite the lingering doubts, Harry believed that Hermione was the only one he could truly rely on in this complicated world.