22 | you can make me wait forever

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xxii.

you can make me wait forever

(1000 Times by Sara Bareilles)

__________

September 30, 1977

James was blessedly, suspiciously, normal the following days after the disastrous Hogsmeade trip.

Hermione couldn't sleep all throughout the night due to a mixture of panic and grief and other feelings she could not understand. She worried herself sick too and locked herself inside the Ravenclaw Tower for the whole day just to avoid James, and any of her friends, really.

Monday came too soon and Hermione had no choice but to haul her arse out of her hiding place. She skipped breakfast that day, only popping a few toffees in her mouth to give her a bit of sugar, and breezed through her morning lessons.

By the time lunch time came, Hermione's stomach was already protesting. She knew she couldn't skip it this time, knowing that this would arise suspicion from her best friends and even Peter.

She kept her head down all throughout the journey, mechanically plopping down on a vacant seat in the Ravenclaw table, and started piling food on her plate. Lily and Sev immediately arrived, the former voicing her questions on Hermione's whereabouts since yesterday.

"I wasn't feeling well yesterday," she said, which technically wasn't a lie.

Lily grew worried and placed the back of her hand against her forehead. "You're not sick," she pointed out matter-of-factly.

Hermione lightly batted her hand away. "I feel better now," she insisted.

Sev peered closer at her face and frowned. "Have you been sleeping properly?" he asked, also growing a tad concerned. "Merlin, have you been staying up all night just to study again, Pettigrew? It isn't your NEWTs year and blimey, it's only been a month since we came back."

"I'm fine," she cried in exhaustion. "Can I please eat in peace now?"

She ignored the bemused glance Lily and Sev shared and focused on filling her stomach. She resolutely stopped herself from glancing at the Gryffindor table, knowing full well that James was there. She'd heard his voice – laughing over something her brother had said – and he was boisterous and obnoxious like he typically was.

Thankfully, she steered clear of him that day too, and the next, and the day after that. The initial panic James' confession had brought to her had simmered down into an uncomfortable itch in her brain. There were times when she'd have to tamper it down to keep her emotions at bay, but once she was alone with her thoughts, they would all burst free and she'd be panicky once more.

The bigger problem, she admitted, was perhaps her heart. To know that her feelings were reciprocated made her heart flutter pleasantly inside her chest. Then her brain would loudly tell her to stop whatever foolishness she was doing and her heart would gently goad her to take a peek, to see if he was all right, to wonder if he would really wait for her answer.

Now, Hermione was usually logical. Her rational side trumped whatever illogical feeling she sometimes had. This was an important part of her that had kept her and her friends alive after all. Harry had often told her that if it weren't for her brains, he'd be dead by their first year.

But, Hermione was also wholehearted. When she felt things, she felt it deeply and strongly. This was the side of her that had cried her eyes out in the girls' bathroom when she'd overheard two buffoons claiming she was annoying. Or the side of her who was swayed by Ron, blue eyes, freckles, humour and all. This was also the side who steadfastly stayed by Harry Potter, after all the years of hardships and pain, because she loved him like he was her own brother.

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