That Afternoon.

Sunday, Sept. 15

“I’m hungry,” Harry said a few minutes later, and the boy’s words caused Hermione to realise that she was hungry too.

Quite so, in fact. Which, frankly, was only to be expected, considering that she’d barely eaten anything the night before and had skipped breakfast this morning. And that was before taking into consideration the substantial of physical activity that she’d engaged in over the last several hours.

Honestly, Hermione was more than just hungry at this point, she was ravenous, and oddly enough, she’d only just noticed.

“Come on,” Harry said as he stood, then held out his hand for her to take, “let’s go get some food.”

Hedwig flew to them, perching on Hermione’s shoulder, and together, they made their way to The Great Hall.

The Great Hall was sparsely populated when Hermione and Harry got there, but there were still covered trays full of food present.

This was only possible because it was the weekend, Hermione knew, as while Hogwarts had strict mealtimes on weekdays (probably to discourage students from loitering, the girl suspected), with all the food but water and drinks disappearing on the dot, things were more... fluid on the weekends, allowing anyone to come in at almost any time for a meal.

The two first-years headed for the Gryffindor table, which was virtually empty, but for a handful of sixth or seventh-years at the far end.

Even with the few people present, Hermione and Harry still drew stares and whispers as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table.

Both children ignored it easily, barely even noticing.

They served themselves, their hunger driving them to load up plates with more food than they could probably finish.

Hedwig joined them, and for a few minutes, they ate silently.

A loud, chattering group barged into the hall then, and Hermione looked at them reflexively; it was Draco and his ilk.

Hermione nearly sighed.

Draco glanced at the Gryffindor table distractedly, and Hermione saw the boy’s eyes widen when he spotted her and Harry.

The Slytherin paused in whatever he was saying, and his entourage behind him (Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, and a boy whose name Hermione didn’t know) followed his line of sight to the Gryffindor table, and their eyes too widened at the sight of Hermione and Harry.

Parkinson whispered something to Draco, and the boy scowled, then said something back with a sneer. Draco’s eyes met Hermione’s then, and he began to make his way toward her and Harry.

In that moment, Hermione immediately decided that after everything she’d been through within the last twenty-four hours, she would not be dealing with Draco’s nonsense too.

Not today, and, if she could help it, never again.

“Stop,” she said, pointing at Draco. “Go to your table. Now.”

The blond Slytherin did stop, but he looked confused, like he was wondering if Hermione was talking to him.

“Yes, Draco, I’m talking to you. Go to your table. Right now.”

The boy blinked, then he scowled and began to open his mouth, but Hermione had had enough.

“For God’s sake, Draco,” she barked angrily, making the blonde and his group jump. “I said, go away.”

The entire hall was staring now, and Draco had gone red, though whether from anger or from embarrassment Hermione didn’t know, and to be honest, she didn’t care.

Thankfully though, whatever Draco was feeling didn’t make him feel like confronting her, so with a huff and a sneer, the Slytherin marched off to his table, his entourage following behind.

Hermione let out a breath, the simple action helping to calm her.

“Huh,” Harry intoned. “So that’s all it takes to get rid of him.” The boy clicked his tongue in a disappointed manner. “Too bad. I was hoping I would get to hex him a few times.”

“Don’t go starting fights, Harry,” Hermione chided gently.

“Why would I need to?” Harry asked. “He’ll be back. He’s too stupid to know better.”

And with that, Hermione had to agree, Draco really was too stupid to know better.

When they were done with their breakfast/lunch, Hermione and Harry headed for Gryffindor Tower.

It was about time, really; they couldn’t put it off forever. Also, neither tween had bathed today, and both were still in their clothes from the day before; freshening up was needed, and Gryffindor Tower was where the showers were.

The walk back to Gryffindor Tower went smoothly, but when Hermione and Harry got to the entrance, they stopped in confusion.

“Uh, who are you?” Harry asked the mustachioed wizard whose painting was covering the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

“Sir Reginald Montgomery,” the man answered simply. “Who are you?”

Harry didn’t answer, instead he and Hermione stared at one another, a growing fear mirrored in each other’s gazes.

“What happened to Jolene?” Hermione asked, not wanting to hear the answer she already knew she would receive.

She’d forgotten in all the excitement since, but Voldemort had blasted his way into the common room last night, and the only reason he would have needed to do that, was to get through the painting blocking the entryway.

Sir Reginald’s lips curled down slightly. “Alas, her damage was too severe,” the wizard said. “She could not be saved.”

Hermione’s heart clenched at the news, and her eyes stung.

Harry took her hand in his.

The boy’s eyes were brimmed with unshed tears and a deep rage, but his squeeze on her hand was gentle.

Hermione squeezed back.

Wiping her eyes with her sleeve, she asked Sir Reginald; “Is there a new password? Or are we still using the one from yesterday?”

“The very same,” Sir Reginald replied.

“Okay then, fillyfops,” Hermione said, and the portrait slid aside to permit them entry.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” Harry said. “Harry Potter.”

“Hermione Granger,” Hermione added, then they walked through.

Being a Sunday, the common room was sparsely populated, most students taking the opportunity that the weekend presented to spend their time outdoors, instead of staying cooped up in their dorms.

Since their fellow first-years were absent from the dorm when they came in (apparently having joined the great migration to the alluring outdoors), Hermione and Harry were able to immediately head to their bathrooms to see to their personal hygiene, after which they sat together in the common room, talking about nothing and everything.

In time, the first-years began to return from wherever they’d been, and the sight of each one, safe and sound, soothed an ache that Hermione hadn’t realised she was carrying.

Even Parvati, who had been badly wounded the night before, showed up eventually, fully healed and free of the bandages that had been wrapped around her head that morning.

Every new arrival joined Hermione and Harry, and naturally, they all wanted to know what had happened with them the night before, after Hedwig flew them away from Gryffindor Tower.

It was tedious, and rather irritating, having to repeat the same story, over and over, for each new arrival to the group, but Hermione couldn’t bring herself to complain.

She was just glad that they were still here to ask.

★★★

Dumbledore made an announcement at dinner that night.

Well, it was less an announcement, and more a recounting of events as he understood them.

The evening edition of the Prophet, which featured Skeeter’s interview of Hermione and Harry on the front-page, landed scant minutes after, but thankfully, it had none of the woman’s usual embellishments, so it neatly corroborated Dumbledore’s account.

After that, dinner passed without fanfare, and the students enjoyed their meals.

Back up at the Gryffindor common room though, Harry did something that even Hermione found surprising.

The common room was quite full, the students in no hurry to run off to bed despite the next day being Monday, since Dumbledore had announced at dinner that classes were cancelled for tomorrow.

The Gryffindors were spread out across the room in little groups, talking, playing, laughing, and even reading, when Harry rose and raised his wand.

His wand let out a soft, chiming sound, and the boy called out: “Everyone. Excuse me. Can I get your attention, please?”

It took some time, but slowly, and surely, everyone looked at the boy.

Harry looked around the room too, his green eyes heavy with emotion.

For a few seconds, nobody spoke, then, without preamble, Harry began: “Last night, a madman came in here to kill me.

“None of you had to help me. I didn’t even ask any of you to. But you helped me all the same. Even at great personal risk. And now, because of you, I’m alive today. And so is Hermione.”

Harry bowed his head.

“Thank you.”

For several seconds, all was quiet, Harry’s impromptu speech having taken everyone by surprise, but then Angelina Johnson, the first person who’d attacked Voldemort the night before, besides Harry, spoke: “Of course we helped you, Potter. You thought we would just let some noseless bastard attack one of us without giving him what for? Effing no.”

Harry laughed. “Gryffindor!” he screamed, and others took up the cry.

Someone started singing the Gryffindor anthem then, and slowly, everyone took it up.

Unfortunately, only a handful of people seemed to know the words, while some even seemed to be deliberately changing the lines into silly jokes.

It was the most discordant bout of group singing that Hermione had ever been a part of, but, somehow, it was also the most enjoyable.

★★★

When they finally went up to bed that night, Harry contacted Hermione with the notebooks that they’d enchanted about a week back to communicate with each other almost immediately, and seeing it reminded the girl of an idea she’d had.

Quickly, she tore out two small pieces of parchment and enchanted them with The Telephone Spell (the spell they’d used to transmit the rooster’s crow across Hogwarts just yesterday).

Using The Notebook, she told Harry to send Hedwig over, and had her deliver one of the pieces of parchment to Harry.

Not even half a minute later, Harry’s voice came from the little piece of parchment in her hand, as clear as if he was right next to her: “Can you hear me?”

“I hear you,” she replied.

They talked about nothing for a few minutes, and when they ran out of things to say, they simply listened to each other breathe.

It made the distance between them feel less.

Sleep came not long after, and for both, it was peaceful.