XXIX.

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( everything is his fault )


























Milo was back in the Hogwarts Express, not so ready for the rest of the school year.

His mind had been plagued by too many thoughts and questions ever since the night in which he had been in his sister's room.

Had the person that walked by noticed him? Where was his sister? Has she succeeded? And should he, too, try to escape from his comfortable life, the only life he had ever known?

Questions like these floated around in his head, constantly causing him a headache. Then there was also this strange dream he had had. Should he trust the words of his dream-self and return to Hermione? Would she even want him back?





His life, once simple and comfortable, had turned into a whirlwind of questions and insecurities. Milo didn't know what to do with himself anymore.

"You look like shit," Damian stated as he sat down next to his friend (? he wasn't sure, did Milo even have friends?).

Milo looked over to him, his expression turning even more sour. "Thank you, I wouldn't have noticed."

Damian allowed a light smile to cross his features, at least he was feeling well enough to be sarcastic. "Well, if you want to, you can always talk to me about it."

Milo just scoffed at that, as if he would ever talk to anyone about his conflicted feelings, much less with someone he had just gotten to know and especially not on the train where Draco Malfoy and his lackeys would soon show up and disturb Milo.





























The train ride had been going on for about two hours and Milo was ready to tear his ears out. Draco had not once stopped talking about his holidays and everything he could connect to them in some way or another, totally ignoring the presence of everyone else in their compartment.

"Also, my father had told me that the father of those Weasleys was in St. Mungo's over the break. Seems like he looked pretty rough," Draco spoke and finally he had said something that piqued Milo's interest.

Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, he asked, "What happened to him?"

Draco looked over to him, with a cruel smirk on his face, "Father didn't want to tell me details but apparently, there were lots of cuts all over him and a lot of blood."

Satisfied with the answer Milo tuned out of the conversation once again, not listening as Draco went on to insult the Weasleys, Potter and lastly he managed to involve Hermione in the conversation.














After another hour or so of listening to Draco talk, Milo finally had enough, stood up and walked out of the compartment without saying another word. (For a moment he felt bad for leaving Damian behind, but he knew if the blond had enough of Draco he would also just leave.)

Walking through the train's narrow aisle, Milo felt like he could finally breathe again. He walked up and down the train, his mind freeing with every step as he allowed himself to relax for a bit but then, when he felt at peace, he felt guilty for it. He didn't deserve to feel at peace, not when he was responsible for so much pain.

He blamed himself for the Weasley's suffering, for Hermione's heartbreak, for his sister's pain and disappearance.

Had he been a better person, would none of this have happened?

He stopped in the middle of the aisle and didn't even notice the door next to it opening, a girl with curly hair and a smile on her face walking out of it. Her not paying attention to where she was going as she closed the door, and him not paying attention to anything besides his thoughts; they collided.

Out of instinct Milo wrapped his arms around her, to prevent her from falling over and as he looked her in the eyes, he wished to be anywhere but here. How could fate be so cruel to him?

Hermione Granger, with her freckled cheeks and big brown eyes looked up at him, her hair in a messy bun with single strands falling in her face. Again, as if it was second nature to him, Milo lifted his hand and pushed some of the hair out of her face and put it behind her ear.

Silently, they looked the other in the eyes. Oh, how Milo had missed looking in her deep brown eyes. How he had missed her scent, he missed everything of her; but the tragedy was that he could never have all of her, not without hurting her.

The door of the compartment she had just left opened again, breaking the spell the pair had been put under and they quickly moved apart. She turned to the compartment and Milo began walking back down the aisle. He needed to get away from her, he would just hurt her and the people close to her again.

"'Mione, your tie fell down. Here it is," Ronald Weasley spoke, holding it out to her and she took it from her hand, thanking him silently.

Milo turned around and for a second the two boys gazes interlocked, but Milo soon looked away. It was his fault that the other boy's father had been hurt. It was all his fault.

He quickened his pace and just wanted to disappear.

However, quick footsteps followed behind him, and in no time another, smaller hand wrapped around his, forcing him to turn around.

"Milo, I think we have to talk," Hermione spoke with that determination in her voice, he liked hearing her voice. He liked hearing his name come from her mouth. He didn't like the dark bags beneath her eyes as he looked at her. It was his fault.

Milo looked away from her, what would a small conversation between the two of them change? He had hurt her and she should never talk to him again. "About what, Hermione?"

Taken aback by his harsh words, she shook her head and pointed with her free hand at him, her other still held his tightly, probably to prevent him from running away (they both knew, Milo would never willingly run away from her). "Don't pretend to be all cold and harsh now. You know exactly what I want to talk about." Lowering her voice to an almost inaudible whisper she spoke, "I can't go on, pretending not to be hurt and pretending to not see you hurting."

Milo sighed and finally looked at her again, she had tears in her eyes as she observed him. (The way he had become skinnier, the way his eyes had lost their usual shine, the way he didn't want to look at her, the way he held himself; he had changed and not for better.)

"Good, today in our room at, let's say, midnight," she continued, taking his sigh as a yes. Hermione squeezed his hand tightly and then let go, disappearing in the direction of the bathrooms to change into her robes.




















˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖗 𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖎𝖙 𝖔𝖒𝖓𝖎𝖆
! hermione granger x milo bähr !
✎ᝰ. -NEPTUNXS

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