Chapter 9

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“Where are you going?”

“To the library.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got to work on Hermione’s gift. Valentine’s Day is next week and I don’t think it’s going to be ready.”

Ron explained all of this hastily to Harry as he scrambled out of the common room that Thursday. He and Hermione had still not spoke since their blazing row the day before. Harry was curious as to why Hermione had been calling him an eavesdropper, untrustworthy, and a liar, but didn’t want to press Ron on it. Harry felt that he had had enough of it coming from Hermione’s mouth.

Watching his friend leave, he shook his head slightly and looked back down at the poster board. The Quidditch team had gotten together the night before and Harry couldn’t be happier with the way things were going. It was very obvious that they were going to flatten Hufflepuff.

Yet all the while, as he thought about ‘flattening Hufflepuff,’ his thoughts returned to the events that had taken place at Hogwarts two years before. Cedric had been the Hufflepuff Seeker, the only one to ever beat Harry on his once beloved Nimbus 2000. Cedric’s untimely demise still made Harry feel queasy.

“Hello.” A voice behind Harry shattered his thoughts and his queasiness seemed to melt away. Hermione had just emerged from the stairs, carrying four books and a small black sachet. Her wand was sticking out of the pocket of her robes. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Harry said, moving the poster board down some. Hermione seemed to be in better spirits, and he was intent on keeping it that way.

“What are you doing?” she asked, looking over at the board.

He shrugged. “Making some plays,” he cast a glance toward her books. “What is that? Extra credit homework? I don’t recall needing those books.”

“Oh these?” Hermione asked in pretend shock. “These are actually for Ron’s Valentine’s gift. Not that he deserves one,” she said, her tone souring.

Harry frowned. “Hermione, I don’t want to press…”

“I don’t want you to either.”

There. The matter was dropped. Harry turned back to his poster and went to sketch some more. In a voice very much unlike his own, he spoke.

“Hermione… do you remember fourth year?”

What a stupid question, he thought suddenly. “Of course I do,” she said, sighing heavily. Harry had eventually told Ron and Hermione everything that had happened the night before they returned to their fifth year of Hogwarts. Hermione had gasped in shock, tears pouring down her face. Ron had been pale and shaking in fear. He also looked like he wanted to hold Hermione somehow, but couldn’t.

“I was just thinking about… um… Cedric,” he said quietly.

Hermione’s eyes glazed over. “I know.”

“Hermione, do you ever wonder why things happen the way they happen?”

She offered her friend a small smile. “Every day.”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, which only succeeded in messing it up more than before. He pressed his hands to his forehead and sighed heavily. He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. He knew the tears were coming, but he didn’t want it to show. Hermione knew her friend too well. She put a reassuring hand on his arm and he clasped it firmly.

Hermione smiled as she stared at her friend’s profile. He had grown up too much for a sixteen-year-old. The things he had seen in his short life span were things no teenager should have had to see. His face was not an unattractive one, but obviously one that had seen far too much. Harry needed a break.

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