𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐚¹- hp.

𝐱𝐯. veils disguise the evil within.

(brief mentions of child abuse and blood. please read with caution.)

꧁—— ❦ ——꧂

"Hermione, can I talk to you?" Harry timidly asked a few days following the Quidditch World Cup, continuously shifting from one foot to the other, rubbing the back of his neck. "If right now doesn't work that's okay, I'd just like a moment before we go back to Hogwarts."

Hermione looked up startled, closing the green book in her hands and placing it on the bed beside her, "Yes, of course." She said, patting the vacant spot to her right. "Everything alright, Harry?"

Harry gave a small nod as he sat down, wringing his hands in his lap. "Brilliant, everything's brilliant."

"Oh, well, what did you want to talk about?" Hermione stared at him with questioning eyes.

"I wanted to apologize." Harry told her, and his nervousness grows; what happens if she refuses to forgive him?

Hermione furrowed her brows, curiosity laced within her voice, "What could you possibly be apologizing for?"

"I was... Hermione, I was terrible to you last year after the whole broom thing. I've been thinking it over the past month and I realized that you only did it because you were concerned about my safety. I mean, how were we to know Sirius was innocent?" Harry says.

"It's okay, Harry, you don't need to apologize for that." Hermione softly smiles, tears building in the corners of her brown eyes. "I should have consulted you fir—"

"No, it's not alright." Harry interrupts with a frown, lightly wrapping his palm around her wrist in the same way Lavinia does when she's trying to comfort him. "You're my best friend, sister even, but the way I treated you after was atrocious. It was unfair and I never apologized for it. You don't deserve that, Hermione, and you never will. I'm so sorry."

"Harry..." Hermione trails off, bottom lip quivering, stray tears falling. "I forgive you. You're my brother, I will always forgive you."

The boulder that weighs heavy upon his shoulders after the revelation cracks, shattering into tiny pebbles that roll down his back until they've settled on the floor, unable to taunt him anymore. He's not sure what to do next, briefly thinking of Lavinia and how she would handle herself if it were him she were apologizing too. Squeezing her wrist, he gives a small smile; he'll do what Lavinia would have done, because under her cold facade, she knows exactly how to deal with an upset person.

Harry pulls her forward and wraps her into a hug, ignoring the oddity that crawls up his spine at the action. He think's he's only ever hugged her a few times, four if he overestimates, but he's certain that he's hugged Lavinia a million times, and resists a frown at how different hugging the two feels. When he's wrapped Lavinia in his arms her curls are pressed softly against his face, cherry blossom and fresh laundry engulfing his senses as a warm tingle settles over his body in tranquility, he feels like a completed puzzle that was missing it's last piece; but hugging Hermione leaves him cold, a hollow cavity in his chest he's desperate to fill.