You had always known Hermione. Since your first year at Hogwarts, she had been a constant in your life—bright-eyed, endlessly curious, always one step ahead of everyone else. She had been your best friend, your confidante, the person you turned to for everything.

But that was the problem.

You loved her. Not in the way a friend should, but in the way that left you breathless when she laughed, that made your heart ache when she smiled at someone else. And she never saw it. Or maybe she did and chose to ignore it, too wrapped up in her world of books, spells, and war to notice the way you looked at her.

But you never told her.

You couldn’t.

Hermione had her future planned out—her ambitions, her studies, the war looming over all of you. She had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and you refused to add to it. So you swallowed your feelings, buried them deep, and told yourself you were happy just being her friend.

Then, somewhere along the way, you started to pull away.

It wasn’t intentional at first. You still walked with her to class, still stayed up late in the common room helping her revise, still laughed at her exasperation when Ron and Harry got into trouble. But it was different now. You were different.

You started making excuses, stopped waiting for her after class. Your smiles no longer reached your eyes. And Hermione noticed.

At first, she brushed it off. But as days turned to weeks, you weren’t there—not like before.

Then, one night, she showed up at your door.

A frantic knock startled you from your thoughts, and when you opened it, Hermione stood there, her eyes red and her breathing unsteady. She looked nothing like the composed, brilliant witch you knew—she looked broken.

Your heart clenched. “Hermione? What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer at first. Instead, she stepped inside, closing the door behind her with trembling fingers. You could see the rise and fall of her chest, the way she was struggling to find the right words. And then...

“Tell me I’m not too late... please...”