𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 [𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

HERMIONE stood still, completely dumbstruck.

Because Harry was here. Harry Potter. One of her best friends. He was here, at her workplace, early in the morning. To see her, she assumed. What other reasons might he have? Possibly millions, but she chose to go with her instinct.

She couldn't breathe at the sight of him; she was far too curious for his reasoning. She stepped out of the elevator and pulled him aside, out of the way. 

She stared at him more carefully. He was clearly tired, evident by the growing bags and purple rings under his eyes, and the fact that he had yawned twice when she had only stood with him for less than five minutes.

"Harry..." She began, though it was barely a whisper as her throat closed up. She shook her head as she spoke, her eyebrows furrowing. "What are you—"

"I need to talk to you." There was no coldness or judgement in his tone, in fact, it was rather expressionless; blank. He stifled another yawn behind his hand before pushing his hand through his hair and ruffling it slightly. Then, he added on, "I spoke to Ron last night."

"Oh, did you?" She asked, followed by a huff. "And how is Ronald doing?" Hermione tasted a bitterness on her tongue as the name rolled of it. She knew she sounded cold as she said it; Good, she thought to herself.

Harry obviously didn't catch on, "Yes," He nodded, "He's confused, 'Mione. He found your note saying that you weren't coming to dinner, and he didn't see you for the rest of the night. He's worried about you."

"Worried?" She chuckled darkly as she shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked away from him, her jaw clenching. "I'm sure that's the last thing that's on his mind."

"Where were you last night?" asked Harry, his brows knitted together. "And why aren't you coming to dinner this weekend? We have dinner together every weekend; You, Ron, me and Ginny, it's the way it's always been. So why don't you want to come?"

And this was when Hermione knew; when she figured out the truth. Harry had no idea about what happened with Ron. Ron obviously had kept it secret from his best friend so Harry couldn't tell him off, in order to protect Hermione. That was clever of him, but the truth always came out in the end, and Hermione had no problem telling Harry what a prick Ron was, only she couldn't muster the energy this early in morning.

So, she laughed to herself at the position she was in.

"Why, Hermione?" Harry repeated more firmly, his green eyes focusing on hers through his spectacles. "Why?"

Hermione parted her lips to speak. She could see the hurt in his eyes, however she didn't think her being absent from dinner would affect him that much. His frown made her whole expression soften. 

She ended up ignoring his question entirely and maneuvering around him, avoiding his gaze. "You should probably go. I'm not allowed visitors while I'm working." 

She began to walk away towards the staff room, but he wasted no time in following after her. Harry reached out and caught hold of her arm, spinning her back around to face him.

"I'm not going anywhere until I get an explanation."

Hermione wriggled her arm out of his grasp and glared at him. She scoffed, "Fine." She said coldly, "But I'm working, so if you're going to follow me around like a lost puppy all day, then stay quiet."

She then turned on her heel before he could say another word. She thought that maybe he'd come back later, but she was wrong when she'd heard his footsteps catching up to her. She gave him a side glance, while he was only looking ahead with his hands in his pockets. She rolled her eyes and looked forward.

Every left she turned; Harry went with her. Every right she turned; Harry went with her. She couldn't throw him off her trail, or at least make him tired enough to give in. But she knew he was far too stubborn for that. 

They walked without a word spoken between them, only breaths, sighs and low scowls. After about an hour of leading him around the hospital, she headed for the staff room, Harry still following behind her.

Aaron was the only one in there. He had records and documents splayed out in front of him on the table, a quill in his hand. When he noticed Hermione, he smiled before looking down, though he had to do a double take when he saw Harry next to her.

"Morning Hermione—erm, hi Harry. What are you doing here?" Aaron asked politely.

"He came to visit this morning," She turned her head to look at him, her expression hard. "But now he won't go home."

Aaron nodded, albeit confused.

Hermione went on. "He'll be following me around all day because he's waiting for an explanation that he's not going to get. He's simply wasting his time."

"Look, I'm not getting involved," Aaron spoke. "But it's good to see you, Harry."

Harry removed his glasses and wiped over the lenses with the corner of his knitted jumper. He smiled, "You too."

Hermione glared at him again before rounding the table and making herself a coffee over by the counter. Harry stayed put. She glanced over her shoulder as Aaron took some notes Hermione couldn't read. Then she asked, "What are you working on?"

Without looking up, he responded with, "You know the way Malfoy said he saw Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini in his first memory?"

"Malfoy?!" Harry took a step forward, catching both Hermione and Aaron's gazes.

"Quiet Harry!" Hermione spat before looking back at Aaron, fixing her composure before adding on. "Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, I've been trying to get in contact with them. You know, to see if they can help him remember." The tone Aaron used indicated that his attempts had failed.

So, she said. "No luck?"

"No." He breathed, shaking his head. "According to Parkinson's solicitor, she's still in Azkaban." He pointed to one of the headlines when she'd first been arrested. Hermione nodded slowly, and so he continued. "And Zabini—I was able to get in touch with him, and he actually wrote back to me. But he said he didn't want to ever see or talk to Malfoy again, and that we shouldn't put our faith in him because he doesn't change his mind often."

Hermione hummed, "He said often; so he might still."

"True. But the odds are low."

Suddenly the door opened, and Avery barely poked her head in when she said, "Hermione, we're needed down in Malfoy's room." She then shifted her eyes ever so slightly, "Oh, hello Harry. I didn't know you were visiting today."

"Neither did I." Hermione muttered to herself as she followed Avery out of the staff room, Harry right behind her. They each gave Aaron a small wave over their shoulders before hurrying down the corridor.

As soon as the doors for the elevators closed when they were inside, the silence became so unbearably loud that Hermione couldn't stand it, but she wasn't going to talk. Not to Harry, at least.

However, his thought process wasn't quite the same as hers. "I thought Malfoy died in the war. How is he here? Why is he here? Does he—"

"Harry, stop!"

"—insult you a lot?"

"Shut up!"

The ding of the doors had Hermione stepping out immediately. She could feel both Avery and Harry's confused expressions shooting into her back, though she didn't dare turn around. 

She sucked in a breath before walking into Malfoy's room, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as she pretended to wait for Avery and Harry to catch up. But only when she opened her eyes did she notice that the room was vacant.

Malfoy was gone.