The crowd erupted in joy as the new year arrived, and fireworks burst into the sky, casting a brilliant, kaleidoscopic display. In that moment, amidst the sparkling lights, Y/N and Hermione sat next together-they always have.
But one thought they s...
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The group guided Buckbeak deeper into the Dark Forest, Hermione enticing him with a ferret just out of his reach. They knew that three inexperienced teenagers, blessed or chosen, stood no chance against a 1,000-pound beast.
"Over here, now," Y/N gently directed, reluctantly offering the dead ferret with a twirl of disgust before reaching their destination.
Hermione sighed in relief, taking a moment to catch her breath. "Stay here, Buckbeak," she said, stroking his fur.
"Now what do we do?" Harry questioned.
"We save Sirius," Hermione declared.
"How?" Y/N echoed.
"No idea!" Hermione admitted, once again, before darting through the trees toward the direction of the Whomping Willow.
They reached the edge of the cliff, observing from afar as the Whomping Willow thrashed its branches aggressively. Professor Lupin cast a spell to immobilize it, allowing entry into the Shrieking Shack.
"Professor Lupin," Y/N breathed, her gaze shifting to the side, noticing a familiar hooked-nose figure quickly following and entering as well.
"Snape's coming," Hermione pointed out.
"What now?" Y/N inquired, gazing out at the cloudy and grey horizon as nightfall approached.
"Now we wait," Harry murmured.
"And now we wait," Hermione echoed softly.
The trio huddled against the trees, seated on the bushy ground in silence. The wind tousled their hair gently, observing as the moon ascended second by second, minute by minute.
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Y/N curled up, embracing her knees as she endured what felt like endless waiting, her head threatening to roll back with drowsiness. Harry was already deep in sleep, snoring peacefully against the tree trunk.
Hermione had maintained silence throughout. Y/N sneaked occasional glances in her direction, her head jerking back and forth uncomfortably. Patience had never been Y/N's strong suit; waiting was an exercise in irritation.
In long lines or queues, she'd shift her posture every few seconds, shifting her weight or crossing her arms—anything to stave off the monotony. However, when it came to Hermione, impatience or hatred had never been associated with the girl, even during moments of irritation.
"I'm sorry," Y/N whispered, her words muffled against her arm.
"What?" Hermione asked, making sure she heard right.
"I've been such an idiot lately," Y/N murmured weakly, looking at the ground and twisting her feet, her shoes making marks in the dirt.
"Glad you know," Hermione said bluntly, unimpressed with Y/N's half-hearted apology.
